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wedonthaveawhile · 4 months

Text

Baby, it's cold outside.

Garreth Weasley x MC (18+ only)

MC finds herself in Garreth's apothecary on Christmas Eve, and testing lust potion is on the agenda.

Tags: NSFW, smut with plot, aged-up characters, oral sex male receiving, lust potion sex, one bed trope, voice kink, praise kink, hurt/comfort, violence and gore.

AO3 // Wordcount: 5.5k

Muttering obscenities under her breath, the agitated witch half-hopped but mostly stumbled over another tomcat feasting on discarded street food. In the wake of Christmas, the tapering pavements of Hogsmeade were crammed with last-minute panic buyers laden with shopping bags.

One obstacle away from losing her footing on the mushy snow, she slipped into a familiar backstreet and pushed open the door to G.W. Potions.

The owner had his chin propped in a knotgrass-stained hand, scribbling in an overflowing notebook. Glancing up as the door chime announced her arrival, he broke into a wide smile.

"You're a lifesaver, you know that?"

“I know, I got your message,” Her eyes scanned the clusters of wax-sealed phials, the timber shelves much less packed than usual. "It sounded urgent, I believe your exact words were 'dire need’?"

"I might have been a little dramatic, I’m just running low on stock," Garreth admitted sheepishly. His mop of copper hair tumbled over his brow and he attempted to tame it with his cleanest hand. "I hope I haven’t disrupted your Christmas Eve? I wasn't sure if Friday was the last of your rounds."

"No, no you're fine. I was heading through to Gladrags for a delivery,” she lied.

She'd exchanged firm words with a few demanding clients who assumed she'd be available over the holidays but couldn't bring herself to impose the 'no-deliveries' rule on Garreth—a choice that felt counterproductive to the crush she'd been attempting to curb for months.

She justified it as a reciprocation of the kindness he’d shown her on previous deliveries—slipping tonics in her satchel whenever she offhandedly grumbled about a sleepless night with an orphaned thestral, or an inflamed laceration from a scrappy kneazle. He’d refuse payment, only asking she mark his map with shrubberies of ingredients she spotted while out raiding poacher camps.

She assumed this raised their relationship from business associates to something that resembled a friendship, and friends could bend the rules for each other without ulterior motives.

"Sorry, this time of year isn’t the best for shedding" she explained, sliding a folded cloth over the countertop. Pulling the edge back, she unveiled a modest bouquet of dense black fur. “Though Remi felt somewhat generous after I bribed him with the promise of coins.”

“So, you’re the middleman between me and a niffler?” His face lit up with one of those heart-stopping smiles, and she prayed that the twist in her gut wasn't reflected on her face. “What’s in it for you?”

"I figured having you owe me a favour couldn't hurt.”

"Favours are quickly becoming our preferred method of currency." He pivoted towards the excessive collection of potion stations, gathered beneath a 'staff only' sign swinging from a crooked nail. The cauldrons rattled on their supports, releasing densely packed bubbles that burst with trapped steam.

The witch slipped a finger in the weave of her scarf, easing it slightly to allow a breath of fresh air to caress her neck, “Are you rebranding as a sauna?”

"Sorry, I know it's sweltering back here," Garreth's eyes skimmed down the curve of her neck as she discarded the scrap of fabric. Stealthy enough, but stoking her hope nonetheless.

Clearing his throat, he shifted his focus to transfer a trio of niffler hairs into his mortar, along with a few drops of mallowsweet oil. "Any guesses today?"

She inhaled the spiralling vapour rising from the cauldron as he wafted the fog in her direction—there was a botanic scent of mandrake, tangy undertones of mint, and berries.

Wiggenweld? ...No, wrong colour, but it’s definitely medicinal.

“What kind of health tonic needs fur?” She eyed him accusingly. "Is this a trick question again, one of your experiments?"

His eyebrows lifted faintly, and a wave of pride washed over her when appeared impressed with her deduction. "I’ve sold out, and the snowstorm wiped out most of the dittany. I'm trying to brew a healing potion without it. Hence the..." He motioned toward the array of vessels stacked on his workstation, covered in a thick layer of curdled gunge. "I've almost cracked it... I'm pretty sure."

"It's interesting that healing potions are so in demand when everyone's spending extended time with their families."

"If everyone's relatives are like mine, I’d say it makes sense." Garreth rolled up his garish crimson sleeves to cool down, inadvertently warming her up with his toned forearms. He was the only wizard in a hundred-mile radius who could wear such a hideous Christmas jumper and still manage to attract several double-takes from captivated passersby. "When I dominate my niece at Pictionary, I always end up with a black eye."

"How old is your niece?"

"Three."

He gnawed on the inside of his lip, restraining a grin the way he typically did when having made her laugh. “What about your family, will you need medical assistance over Christmas?"

The herbology cabinet groaned in protest as the pair leaned against it, "The odds are high, but only because I’m spending my Christmas with a teenage hippogriff. Someone's got to stay at the sanctuary, and I drew the short straw this year”.

"Well, aside from a few hours at my folks tomorrow, I'll be here restocking. I won't be open to the public, but if... you know, if you need anything..."

His eyes lifted to meet hers, and tension coiled in her gut, shooting south at the thought of being alone with him in the locked store.

"Thanks," she said quietly.

"Yeah... of course," Garreth severed the eye contact, redirecting his attention to pick at the corroded hinges of the cabinet. "Sirona’s open over the holidays too."

“Oh... is she?”

He dove into a thorough breakdown of the Three Broomsticks festive menu. She nodded in amusement as he unnecessarily mimed the dimensions of the portions. She tucked away the knowledge that he worshipped turkey and cranberry burgers to the collection of other useless but endearing facts she'd gathered about him.

His cocktail of choice was red currant rum - She’d bumped into him on Halloween thoroughly intoxicated on the stuff. He’d feigned firing a toy arrow in her direction before proudly proclaiming he was Robin Hood, enunciating all the wrong words with the goofiest grin.

He outright denied being allergic to cats, inspecting the collar of each feline that decided to nap in a sunbeam on the steps of his shop, cooing their name before inevitably succumbing to three consecutive sneezes.

His family tree had long branches. On his opening weekend, she'd waded through a sea of proud redheads to reach the kiosk and hand over her business card.

"...Anyway, I wanted to mention it because, you know, if you’re alone for... well, not alone, but if you'll be around..."

Heat flared at the bottom of her spine, cautiously optimistic his rambling was veering toward an invitation.

A blast of glacial wind burst through the doorway as a customer wrenched it open. A light dusting of snow clung to his robes as he crossed the shop floor to the cabinet housing the erotic potions, taking a moment to tuck stray wisps of silvery hair into his hood.

Garreth's lips tightened into a taut line as he observed the elderly wizard pulling the entire supply of lust potion vials from the rack.

His thumb brushed his upper lip as he leaned in close, his elbow jostling her arm. "Do you reckon he takes them all in one go?"

"He'd orgasm from a pat on the head."

"Orgasm? My guy would be flung into the astral plane.”

She butted her forehead against his shoulder, struggling to transform her snort into an ill-concealed cough.

"I should get going, give you two some privacy."

"Attraction has to be in the fold for those potions to do their thing, and he's not my type," Garreth's eyes flitted to her lips, but the tinkling of thirteen phials skidding across the kiosk drew them away.

She reluctantly bundled back up into her scarf while Garreth seamlessly transitioned back into storekeeper mode.

"Have a great Christmas."

"You too, see you next time," he waved at her, turning his attention to the eager customer.

The witch spent her evening re-stitching the ruptured wound of an adolescent Hippogriff, the beast fluctuated between snapping at lacewing flies and charging aggressively toward its caretaker.

Collecting the fallen feathers from the creature's wings, she updated the ledger with the newfound stock, clucking her teeth disapprovingly at the sight of the diminishing list.

What did Garreth say was in short supply? Dittany?

During last week's Hippogriff rescue, she recalled noticing shrubs nestled in the mouth of a cave. It was a harsh winter, finances were stretched, and adding dittany to the stock during a surge in demand would ensure the creatures' comfort for the remaining winter months. Not to mention, it provided a convenient excuse to take Garreth up on his offer of dropping by.

After feeding the remaining beasts and wrapping them snug in warming charms she headed off to investigate.

Her destination wasn't far—a short ride up a shallow mountain. However, the wind thrashed against her broom. The bristles and handle careened in wildly opposing directions as she blundered through the dense forest, with a lumos scarcely penetrating two feet of the blistering snowstorm.

She sought refuge by the wreckage of a stone cottage, navigating through twisted roots and debris until she reached the cavern. Her nose wrinkled at the musty stench emanating from the path ahead, barely visible through a shroud of thick cobwebs. With a silent prayer that this was the right spot, she ignited the tangled web with a tap of her wand, the smouldering strands lit the passage and in the fleeting light, she saw a twitch in the shadows.

She’d barely uttered the Lumos incantation before a force erupted from the shadows, striking her face and propelling her into a bank of tightly packed snow. She desperately palmed the moisture flooding her vision, pale fingers smothering in the warmth of her blood. The forest whirled around her as she was hoisted into the air and slammed back to the ground.

She blindly blasted the acromantula into crumbling ruins with a frenzied swish of her wand. The arachnid recoiled from the thunderous blow, sprawling onto the ground before burrowing beneath the earth.

Scouring the terrain for any indication of the beast, a trail of crimson droplets stained the snow as she backed away, a ferocious blast of icy wind lashing at her throbbing wound.

Wiggenweld, I need wiggenweld.

The invasive thought tore through her mental image of the sanctuary farmhouse as she apparated.

Ploughing shoulder-first into a weathered door, the impact reverberated through her bones, pinging her brain around in her skull.

The skunky stench of wizzenweed curled into her nostrils, mingling with the sharp reek of spilt beer she'd stomped into and splattered up her ankles.

She swiped her hand across her eyes to smear away the blood and the harsh click of a lock snapped her back to reality—back to Hogsmeade.

Mellow candlelight exploded like a flashbang as a door creaked open, and a broad figure silhouetted against the orange glow said her name.

"Garreth?"

Humiliation struck her chest like a knife—a solid blow between her lungs. Tacky blood clung from her eyebrow to the corner of her mouth, pulling at her skin as she fought to articulate an explanation.

“What happened to you?”

"I'm so sorry, I tried apparating home, but the… it was a mistake. I needed wiggenweld… but the shortage, that’s what you told me, so I thought of you, and, I could've splinched…”

"Whoa, take a breath, you're talking a mile a minute.”

Garreth’s hands were firm on her shoulders as he steered her towards the counter and settled her on his chair. Flames from the brewing station twinkled in and out of focus as she tried to hone in on him dragging an extra stool across the floorboards, taking a seat in front of her.

"This doesn’t look like a hippogriff wound. Did someone do this to you?"

“N-no, no I was just being reckless… I did this to myself.”

She quivered as the crook of his warm finger tipped her chin up, assessing the cut with suspicious emerald eyes.

"I'm sorry," she momentarily forgot how to breathe as his thumb traced a slow path up her cheekbone. "I didn't mean to bother you. I probably have some healing tonic in a drawer at home..."

"Stop with the apologies, I told you to drop by if you needed anything, didn't I?"

A stack of flannels rested beside a simmering cauldron. He reached for one, tilting her face as he dabbed at the coagulated blood.

"It’s not as bad as it looks,” he declared, slinging the cloth over his shoulder. He scratched his forehead, a streak of crimson smearing across his freckles. "It's not too deep. If you'll let me, I could stitch some of the shallower parts back together?"

She nodded, fighting back a soft sound when he applied the tiniest bit of pressure to her throat to keep her steady. The flesh throbbed as the tip of his wand traced down the wound, his copper lashes fluttering with concentration.

It felt glaringly obvious she was intentionally avoiding eye contact. She studied the awkward, rigid dance of the misshapen reindeer on his jumper as a distraction, scattered patches of burnt fabric lay strewn in their path. Some splashes of the corrosive substance had scorched through completely, frayed fibers exposing freckles scattered across his breastbone like tiny constellations.

“You shouldn’t be wearing this.”

He quirked an eyebrow, "What would you prefer me in?”

Her complexion transitioned from deathly pale to a fiery red in seconds, "No, I just mean... the stains. They look like they’re irritating your skin," she said, reaching out instinctively. Her fingertip traced around an exposed patch of inflamed skin, causing Garreth to inhale sharply.

The atmosphere shifted. His dilated eyes locked onto hers as she glanced up and tension rippled between them, her freezing hand poised on his chest while he cradled her jaw.

Tender fingertips brushed aside strands of wet hair that clung to her cheek. "Are you going to tell me what happened?"

"Spider," her voice barely rose above a whisper before she cleared her throat lightly. "Set its house on fire."

"Rescuing a beast?"

She responded with a noncommittal hum.

I flew up a mountain in a storm and set an acromantula on fire to find Dittany because you mentioned it briefly.

She'd be carrying that one to the grave. Or reserving the tale for their grandkids—hinging on whether the trauma scrambled her brain enough to ask him out for a drink on New Year's.

The hold on her lungs slackened as Garreth rose to his feet and fetched a trio of potions from a lofty shelf, "Murtlap essence for minor skin abrasions and it will stop you from bruising, a calming draught for shock, and this one’s for internal damage. You don't seem to have a concussion, but just in case." He arranged them on the desk alongside a clean glass before adding "They're not renowned for their flavour, you're better off taking them all at once."

With a weak expression of gratitude, she swallowed the amalgamated concoctions. The blend curdled on her tongue, flopping into her stomach like a sodden lump of wet cement.

Garreth chuckled at her attempt to conceal a grimace. "You should recover fairly quickly, but just in case, is there someone back home who can make sure you're taken care of tonight?"

"No, I run the sanctuary with a friend, but she's at her Gran's for Christmas," she fidgeted with the hem of her coat. If she had been seriously hurt, nobody would have had a clue where to find her, let alone bother looking. "It's just me.”

Garreth nodded, twirling his pestle in circles inside his mortar. She sensed his question might have been an indirect hint for her to leave.

Swallowing down her disappointment, she rose to her feet. "Well, thank you for coming to my rescue. I’ll—"

“You should stay here tonight,” he interrupted before she could finish her sentence, pivoting towards her with hands on his hips. "I just… I don't think you should be left alone after something like this."

"Here?” She stared at her mud-splattered work boots to try and conceal the blood swarming her cheeks. “Are we supposed to top and tail on your brewing station?"

"I live above the shop. You can take the bed, I sleep on the sofa most nights anyway – I can grab you some dry clothes too."

Her overactive imagination slashed through the depths of her mind leaving behind tattered shreds of unadulterated filth. Sleeping in his bed, swaddled in one of his knitted pullovers – was he trying to kill her?

"Didn't know you were such a night owl," she deflected, anxiously nibbling on her lip as the storm screamed past the window.

If he’d detected her brain being filthy, he wasn't letting on. Swinging open a cabinet door, he produced a bottle of billowing crimson liquor, suspending it between two fingers. "I got some red currant rum from a customer. Given that it's technically Christmas Day, perhaps we should celebrate?"

"Is it that late?" She craned her neck to check the time—twelve o’ twelve. "Was this whole white knight act just a way to lure me into keeping you company on Christmas?"

"Act? Come on now, are we just going to pretend you didn't think of me on your deathbed?"

The calming draught had worked too well, eclipsing any hint of shame she might have felt from that comment with the flicker of bad intentions in his eyes.

"You seem more than happy to receive me."

The cupboard beneath the potion station emitted a groan from its corroded joints as Garreth began searching for a pair of untarnished glasses. "What can I say? I have a thing for women covered in blood," he paused, peeking over the door, "I swear I’m not going to murder you, that joke came out wrong."

She laughed as he polished water spots from the vessels with his gaudy jumper and placed them next to his replenished stock—rows of incandescent fuchsia spiralling in heart-shaped containers.

"Luxtentia," she read aloud from the label, a scrap of parchment detailing the trial-and-error process tucked alongside it. "Did I catch you in the middle of trialling new potions?"

“Lust potion,” Garreth clarified, allowing the scarlet alcohol to flow liberally into their cups. "Believe me, you'd be noticing some side effects if I had been testing that."

Tugging at the loose threads of his words felt almost instinctual.

"...Attraction has to be in the fold for lust potions to work," she tilted her head innocently, quoting his earlier words, "Doesn’t it?"

Handing her a brimming glass of the berry-infused cocktail, Garreth took a sip of his own while studying her over the rim. "Did I say that?" He appeared wholly unruffled, and a twist of arousal lit her up at the fact.

"Word for word."

He tapped a finger against his drink thoughtfully, "Would it work both ways?"

She let the back of her head thump against the barren shelf, half-hoping the collision might knock some virtue into her. No such luck. "Do you want to take me upstairs and find out?"

His grin was blinding, and a delicious anticipation blasted into her. An unspoken dare hung in the air, both silently challenging the other to make a move. He gave in first, reaching out to collect two vials of the blushing potion and pressing them into her palm.

"Your move."

She feigned a thoughtful pause before digging her nails into the stoppers and pouring a vial into each of their beverages.

Raising his glass with a wild glint in his eyes, she tapped hers against it before they knocked back the entire drink in perfect unison.

Sparks charged down her oesophagus as she set down the glass, and her clothes clung to her skin like she'd been dunked in honey. Was that the potion? What an insufferable side effect —though the logic became apparent as the urge to strip away every layer waged war against a rapidly declining sigh of restraint.

“Do you feel anything?”

Garreth’s voice burrowed under her skin – Was it always that deep-rooted and husky? If his voice was making her wet, actual sex might ruin her.

His face swam when she glanced up at him, features swirling like the post outside Madam Snelling's Tress Emporium. She couldn’t feel anything except how her skin was so tight she might rip out of herself. “I… feel drunk.”

His hand crept towards her in excruciatingly slow motion, each passing second punctuated by a thousand splintering cracks of her heart against her ribcage.

The warmth of his fingers on her wrist seeped through her clothes and scattered like white-hot stars beneath her skin. In her mind's eye, she watched those fingers tugging at the roots of her hair, tightening around her throat, satisfying the desire swirling between her thighs – Oh, she was fucked.

"Look at me," Garreth crooned, oblivious to the fact that his words were licking at her like flames. He kept talking, something about a rose, but his words were swallowed by the ringing in her ears.

"What?" she asked, dumbfounded by the cascade of words pouring from his lips.

“Your cheeks are all rosy, are you warm?”

His voice. His fucking voice.

She thrust the heel of her palms into her eyes, but his scent clawed into her lungs— Mallowsweet and shrivelfig fruit, blending with the smokiness from the ever-burning stove. She wanted to bury her face in the crook of his neck, to trace her tongue along his pulse until she could taste it too.

“Sweetheart?”

He had never said that before, only ever referring to her by name. When she cracked open her eyes, she saw that his were feral, locking onto her like a predator sizing up its prey. His pupils were blown out, the vibrant emerald engulfed by black.

Her uneasy laughter cut through the fog, hands instinctively reaching out until she found herself pulling him closer by the fabric of his sweater. "Garreth, what the hell is this?"

"I didn't know it was this... intense." His fingers pressed into the burning flesh of her cheeks, unsure whether they were pulling her closer or attempting to keep her at bay. Her tongue chased the pad of his thumb as he swept it across her parted lips. "Do you want me to take you to bed?"

"Apparate us.”

His hands descended to her neck as he drew her to his lips.

A fierce tug deep in her belly wrenched her in every direction as they plummeted into a disorderly pit of tangled blankets. The overpowering scent of his bedroom had her in a chokehold. Her greedy attempt to inhale the air was cut off as he took her lips again, his thigh sliding between hers.

She scraped her nails through his gorgeous hair, tugging the locks at his nape to lick along the sheen of his throat. The salty tang of his restraint was the single most delicious thing she had ever tasted. The groan he let escape reverberated against her lips and she imagined him moaning like that against her ear, his hips grinding into hers.

“Fuck, do that again.”

“I knew it,” her breathy laugh dispersed across his skin as she gave the sleek strands another tug. “You like that?”

"You often think about what turns me on?"

He buried his face in the curve of her throat, seeking out her pulse point. The unexpected pleasure of his bite triggered a sultry whine—she’d never made that sound before, but the potion had flushed out any ounce of indignity. He sucked a bruise into her skin, grinning as she grasped at his clothes in an attempt to pull him closer.

"Take this off, please," she scrambled with the hem. His rock-hard arousal was digging into her stomach and the fabric barriers were driving her insane.

"Don’t bother begging," his words rumbled against her neck as they both shed the constraints of their clothes, "I'll give you everything." His voice was twitchy, cracking apart with lust. An eternity passed before fabric was dragged down her thighs and found a home somewhere in the mountain of blankets.

She could barely feel his fingers—just an explosive shockwave blasting across her body. His other hand gripped the base of her skull, coaxing her mouth open, telling her how wet she was.

"Hear how pretty you sound?"

He added another finger, and stars streaked across her vision as she arched into his touch. Her body responded on pure instinct, thrusting helplessly as he mimicked with his hand what she was almost delirious for.

"My mouth sounds better."

Coarse hairs tickled her skin as she slid her fingers under the waistband of his trousers with the hope that touching him back might appease the hunger.

He thrust into her palm with a needy gasp, and it knocked her breathing shallow. In an instant, she'd pushed him onto his back, running her tongue up the entire length of his swollen cock, before swirling around the head.

The man reclining under her was almost unrecognisable, his untamed hair spilling into his black, wild eyes. Unnatural, jerky shudders wracked through his chest.

Sticking out her tongue, Garreth responded with a primal snarl, seizing the invitation to take control.

"There you go, is that what you want?" he whispered, sliding himself between her lips.

Her eyes welled up at the imposing size of him gliding across her tongue, but she didn’t care. The only thing that mattered was how he was gazing at her like she was the answer to everything—Water in the desert.

She took in as much of him as she could, her wrist twisting around what she couldn't. He was ramming into her too hard, but the potion smoothed out the rough edges, turning it passionate.

Gravelly snippets of praise were spilling from his mouth, and the ruined edge to his voice threatened to make her come from his words alone. A particularly greedy thrust pounded the back of her throat at the wrong angle, and she jerked back with a rasping cough.

In less than a second, she was caged under a warm body. "I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be treating you like this."

"Don't be sorry, make me take it."

"Fucking hell," he groaned, descending her body and parting her legs with his palms.

She latched onto his hair, pulling him towards her lips. "No, not your mouth, I need more."

She knew she was being demanding, he just wanted to reciprocate what she had done for him, but the distance between them felt like too much, and she needed it annihilated.

“You need it?"

He taunted her clit with the head of his dick. She didn't want to waste time, he could go down on her in round two because she was so turned on by him fucking her mouth that she was shaking.

He gently nudged at her entrance, and not a single discernible word occupied her mind. She relied on her needy whining to convey what words couldn't, her nails scraping against his broad shoulders as she desperately sought an anchor.

“I don’t think I can go slow.”

"I don't want slow."

The air was squeezed from her lungs as he sank into her, bottoming out with one stroke. An orgasm struck her instantly but being so overstimulated it scarcely penetrated the fog—just a fleeting flash of lightning between her thighs.

Garreth froze as the aftereffects pulsed around him, whimpers fracturing through his voice as he strained to remain still. "Do you need me to stop?"

"No," she squirmed in an attempt to coax his hips back into action. He twitched inside her, and she gasped, "I want more." Hardly had the words left her lips when he thrust into her with such force that it sent her eyes rolling back.

“Pull my hair again."

“Make me come again.”

The speed he set was almost inhuman as her nails clawed across his scalp and down his neck. She planted her heels on the mattress to gain some control and push back into him, but he grabbed the backs of her thighs, holding her in place—spreading her open under him.

"Is this what you wanted every time you pulled out an excuse to drop by?" His hips stuttered when he looked down at the point where they were connected. She was drenched, dripping with how badly she needed him. Taking a deep breath, he started meticulously inspecting the Gryffindor Quidditch flag above his headboard, resisting the urge to finish before her.

Her heart sped up at his words and she could hear herself producing feathery noises as he extracted pleasure from her, "What took you so long to give it to me?"

"You're too cute, made me nervous," he grinned, seizing her nipple in his teeth, and pulling on it until she whimpered. "Push into me, let me have you."

His restraint oscillated, the tender kisses on her neck escalating into gnawing at her throat. The persistent pounding of his hips matched the increasing intensity, delving into the deepest parts of her with each blissful drag of his cock.

"Moan for me, those beautiful sounds are driving me insane."

This wasn't the Christmas she expected: Garreth Weasley's fingers splayed across her throat, conjuring ethereal pleasure with every precise thrust of his hips.

“Garreth...”

“I know, sweetheart." He withdrew his hand from where he was holding her legs apart, using his thumb to trail a lopsided circle around her bundle of nerves. “Come on, give me one more.”

His voice thrust her over the edge and she felt every part of her orgasm splinter through her body.

"Where do you want me to come?" he asked desperately. She was still in the throes of ecstasy, shivering uncontrollably from the high of watching him falling apart. "Tell me.”

"Come inside me," she said hoarsely. Her body was exhausted and hypersensitive, the only reason she forced herself to stay conscious was to witness him unravel.

An aftershock pulsated around him, and he shoved his face into the crook of her neck as he released deep inside her. His fingers clamped onto her thighs so tightly they throbbed, but she was too drained to muster the strength to push them off.

He lazily circled his hips into hers, as if he couldn’t bear to stop. Interlocking their fingers, he planted kisses across her knuckles. The sweet gesture made her heart stutter, and as her head nestled into a soft pile of pillows, sleep quickly claimed her.

She had a hazy memory of stirring in the night with a heavy arm over her waist and knees nestled into the crook of hers. There was something hard and insistent digging into the small of her back and when she shifted to relieve the pressure, he had whined—fucking whined.

His lips navigated her skin until they found that sweet spot under her ear, and she arched back. He accepted the invitation and slid into her. Reaching around to grip his hair, she tugged hard enough for him to reciprocate the pressure with his teeth on her shoulder. Her chest thrummed against his palm as he held her tightly, murmuring sweet nothings while fucking her slowly. He was half-asleep, but he was himself.

The daylight streamed in, too bright, with flakes purring against the window as they cascaded from the skies. Garreth’s bedroom was snug, nothing more than a bed and a chaotic pile of thumbed potion books scattered across the floor. Rolling over, she discovered a mess of red hair protruding from the green blankets.

“Merry Christmaaaaas,” he groaned, his words muffled by the bedding.

"You should've woken me up and kicked me out. Don't you have plans?"

"Guess how many are over at my folks' for Christmas?" He emerged squinting. "Uncles, aunties, cousins, nephews, nieces, girlfriends, boyfriends— What’s the headcount?"

She flung an arm across her eyes, shrugging. His ability to nosedive straight into a conversation after just waking up baffled her. "Twenty-two?"

"Thirty-eight. They won't notice if one is late," he started kissing her, slow, sweet, and sinful. "And they won't notice if there's one more?"

She huffed out a laugh at his fearless invitation, "I can't gatecrash, the last thing I want to do on Christmas day is piss off thirty-eight Weasleys."

“My aunt Matilda will be more upset if I turn up alone for yet another year. It's your decision, but I'm impatient. Waiting a whole year to flaunt you doesn't sit right with me."

Definitely a far cry from the Christmas she had imagined.

“I’d love to.”

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cuffmeinblack · 24 days

Text

A Library Defiled

Garreth Weasley x f!reader

Summary: An tense encounter in the library shatters the barrier between friends and lovers. Tags: explicit | fingering | semi-public sex | friends to lovers 1.7k words

A/n: Just a quick smutty drabble from me but it's been a while since I wrote anything for Weasley Wednesday! I was inspired by this art which sent me slightly insane yesterday (help, he's so fucking tall).

The gold embossed spine winked down at your from its perch, far out of reach amongst the teetering heights of the stacks. Your instinct was to grab your wand and cast a quick summoning charm, but that idea fizzled out with a quick glance at your surroundings. The signs that Madam Scribner had hung earlier that year usually went ignored, but the stern librarian was only feet away now, shuffling through a cart of returned books. Forbidding the use of magic in a magical school was preposterous, though you could quite easily see Professor Black agreeing with her madness. No doubt it had been in response to that business with Cressida and her damned flying diary.

You rolled your eyes before standing on tiptoes, fingers merely inches away from your prize, and yet it was to no avail. That extra height eluded you. The thought occurred to you to start climbing the shelves until the very book you needed was snatched from above.

“Wait, I-...”

“Is this what you wanted?”

You needn't have turned to discern who'd spoken—his voice was as familiar as his densely freckled face—but you fixed your face with a suitably irritated expression. You came face to face with his chin, having to crane your neck to meet the towering redhead’s eyes. Garreth held the book out for you with a smile that looked far too self satisfied for your liking.

“Yes, it is. Well done for being so tall,” you replied, casting another mutinous glance at the librarian. “How does she expect us to get anything down without using magic?”

“I think she'd be happy for nobody to touch the books ever again. However, I'm always happy to help a damsel in distress.” You could practically feel the implied flirtatious wink.

Shadow eclipsed your face, an arm braced against the shelf beside you. Your heart stuttered, arms clutching the book tightly to your chest like a shield in case the organ burst from your ribcage. The reaction he elicited wasn't new or unexpected—in fact, he played into it as much as he could these days. He knew how to stand, how to speak and what to say to send your heart racing, hoping that one day you would end the torturous game you played and let him fulfill those desires you both knew you held. The chase was fun but your patience and self restraint grew thinner with each passing day.

“Is that what I am?” you asked. Your voice quivered as you felt him envelop your back, his warmth seeping through your shirt. He ran hot like a furnace. You'd forgotten how to use your limbs, how to think; every sense was acutely aware and attuned to his movements.

“You looked pretty distressed before I got here,” he chuckled, his mouth so very close to your ear. His fingers flexed against the wood, warm breath slipping down your collar. Another inch and his lips might brush your skin.

Garreth knew when to stop. This invisible boundary you'd drawn lay somewhere on the hair's breadth between your bodies. You still felt everything—the steady rise and fall of his chest, the copper curls that barely ghosted your forehead and his gaze lingering on your neck.

Sweeping the hair away from that spot, you heard him inhale, dizzy from the slightest show of skin; not quite an invitation, only an enticement. If he insisted on teasing, you would repay him for his efforts. When he stepped closer you knew it had been foolish.

There was no more room between you anymore, only his muscled chest and the hint of softness at his midsection. “Are you going to let me leave or keep me pinned here forever?” you asked, hoping that the answer might be ‘yes’.

“I'm not stopping you.” He shoved his free hand into his pocket. He was quite correct—there to your right, was a route of escape. You could turn and leave, but your legs had suddenly atrophied. And then Garreth dipped his head further. To an outsider it might look as if he were whispering conspiratorially in your ear, his billowing robes and broad shoulders masking just how tightly your bodies pressed against each other. “You can go, or you can stop pretending not to want this,” he said.

“And what is this, exactly?”

Garreth shifted his weight ever so slightly, enough for you to feel an unmistakable twitch in his trousers. Cheeks blazing, you inhaled sharply whilst suppressing a whimper, clutching the book so tightly you thought the spine might crumble.

“You drive me crazy,” he replied with what could only be described as longing lacing his voice. Garreth wasn't the type of person to manipulate others; you knew he was being sincere. “Just give me a chance to love you.”

You finally looked at him then, shocked to hear that word slipping from his lips. He didn't seem to have noticed, or perhaps he held no shame in laying his heart on the line for you then. His eyes were full and earnest, unwavering as they held your gaze. In response to your shocked silence he asked, “Did you think I just wanted to sleep with you?”

“Maybe,” you muttered. Despite every rational thought imploring you not to, your eyes dropped to his lips, and his own quirked into a smile at his victory. When he kissed you, he finally let go of the shelf to tilt your chin to meet him. The hand in his pocket came to encircle your waist, swivelling you around to face him. The book you'd held as a shield that signified the final barrier between your coupling fell to the floor with a thud as you gave into him completely.

Your heart pounded so fiercely you didn't hear Madam Scriber shouting or the students whistling—there was only Garreth and his gentle touch and soft lips, tongues swirling in an endless caress. The battle had been long-fought but your surrender had made winners of you both. The whimper you'd forced down threatened to escape the tighter he held you, the longer his tongue teased your lower lip.

Perhaps it had been a blessing when the librarian broke her own rule and blasted a hex at the pair of you, rendering you speechless and unable to move. Saving you from further embarrassment had been a steep price to pay and had made Madam Scribner enemy number one.

A month later, you found yourself in that very same spot again, except this time it was under the cover of darkness. Tonight you would exact your revenge on Madam Scribner by defiling her precious library. The room was still and blissfully quiet except for the rustle of fabric and lustful moans that spilled from your own mouth. Garreth's lips were just as sweet as that fateful day one month prior, his hand braced again on the shelf next to you—but this time his slick fingers teased your clit with precision as you pressed against his chest.

Your head fell back on his shoulder, back arching into his touch as the circles grew faster and tighter. You whimpered unbidden, met by a breathy chuckle in your ear before Garreth's mouth returned to your neck. You guessed there would be purple bruises there tomorrow, by the way your skin now tingled and stung so deliciously.

“Fuck, Garreth…” Stars perforated your vision as every drop of blood rushed south, preparing for a mind-shattering orgasm only minutes after your arrival. Everything was so intense, so passionate with Garreth; years of tension finally culminating in the moments you joined bodies.

“That's it, let it go,” he whispered in your ear, silky smooth and commanding. “Come for me.”

You gripped his hair as those final slippery strokes sent you over the edge, coming hard with a loud moan that echoed along the rows of books. If they could talk, they'd have quite the tale to tell. Your thighs clenched around his hand, hips grinding against his fingers. His cock was already nudging against your behind whilst you writhed in the throes of pleasure.

“I can’t wait to be inside you. Fuck, you’re so wet.” Another nudge from his stiff length, his arm abandoning the shelf to hold you tight against him. You’d barely caught your breath before Garreth was tilting you forward, angling your hips just right as he slid between your folds. “This is exactly what I wanted to do to you that day, you know.” His voice had become gravelly, laced with want. His cock twitched eagerly at your entrance.

“I wanted it, too,” you sighed, gripping the shelf in front of you hard as books shifted and dust invaded your nostrils, yet nothing could overpower the heady aroma of musk that had you salivating at the thought of Garreth’s dripping cock. “Please…”

Garreth entered you in one swift motion, stretching you until you were blissfully full. He groaned and nipped at your ear, sending shivers down your spine before retreating and plunging back inside. Harder, faster, deeper; he fucked you until the books fell all around you and coherent sentences were a thing of the past.

All you knew was him, and his name sighed to the heavens as he pulled your hair and bared your throat. The sting of your skin felt like promises, made to linger. He was everything, and he was yours.

Garreth’s long fingers trailed your collarbone under the open fabric of your shirt before wrapping around your throat. Calloused fingertips grazed your pulse and the corner of your jaw. You were close again; tension coiled so tight it almost hurt. He must have felt your body twitch, your muscles contract—he responded with a shuddering groan, his hips grinding relentlessly against your behind as he met his own release.

Your climax followed soon after, every pulsing wave around his cock filling you further and further until you were dripping, happy and satiated.

The dim light of the cavernous room made for quite the relaxing atmosphere, and your eyes blinked slowly at the ceiling as you came down from your high. You could have curled up there and slept, warm and safe in Garreth’s arms.

He was busy nuzzling against the crook of your neck when he finally sighed contentedly. “Happy anniversary, sweetheart.”

#garreth weasley #weasley wednesday #garreth weasley fanfiction #garreth weasley x reader

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hazyange1s · 1 month

Text

Hey Siri play “Weasley is our king” by Draco Malfoy (rendition by Sebastian)

#he’s a beater no doubt about it.#arguments? please see Fred and George #hogwarts legacy #harry potter #hogwarts legacy screenshots #garreth weasley #garreth weasley screenshots #weasley wednesday #gryffindor #ok I lied I could see him as a keeper too

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blueraineshadows · 18 days

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Breathless

Farmer!Garreth x F!MC

8.6k words. Tags: NSFW / smut / loads of fluff / breeding kink unlocked / flirting / sexual tension

The sun was warm on his back as Garreth sat down on a log, pulled a small tin from his cloth bag, and opened it. He lifted out his sandwich and took a large bite, crumbs sprinkling over his lap that he brushed away with a grubby hand. A curious nose snuffled at his thigh, investigating the crumbs in case a piece of ham had fallen out too. Garreth smirked and scratched his beloved dog behind the ear and spoke around a mouthful of bread and ham.

“None for you, mate,” he said affectionately. “I'm starving after hauling all those hay bales this morning. This is all mine.”

Big, brown eyes looked up at him hopefully, and Garreth patted the spaniel on the head, his fingers soothing the silken fur as he took another bite of his sandwich. But Rusty had other ideas. His ears perked up, and he stood, tail wagging happily before he took off down the trail, barking excitedly.

“Rusty!”

Garreth saw who Rusty was running for, and his heart began to beat a bit faster behind his ribs. He chewed faster, swallowing a huge chunk of sandwich as he brushed the crumbs from his mouth and legs.

It was her.

Childhood friend, expert tormentor, and utterly beautiful. MC was a girl who lived in the village, about a mile from the Weasley farm, and Garreth couldn't imagine life without her. She came nearly every day to help out with the animals and chat with Ma. Her own mother passed away when she was a child, and she had become an honorary Weasley, always around the farm or in the house with the boys as they grew up.

She was a Muggle, through and through, but she knew about their magic. She kept their secret, delighted with their magical abilities but loyal to the bone when it came to their talents. Her only regret had been when he and his siblings had all gone off to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. MC had missed them terribly, but being here at the farm had kept her busy.

It was no trouble for Garreth to admit that coming home for school holidays had meant coming home to her. He didn't care that his brothers teased him about it, poking fun about his little crush on her. Garreth didn't care. He'd tell anyone. MC had always been the prettiest girl he knew, and he'd hex anyone who dared say otherwise. As adults, his feelings hadn’t changed. In fact, they had merely grown stronger.

“You're a bit late today, aren't you?” He called out to her, grinning as Rusty bounced around her legs, tail wagging.

MC was making a fuss of the dog, laughing at his little leaps as she headed closer towards Garreth, her braided hair over one shoulder with loose strands teasing on the breeze around her face.

“Keeping an eye on my timing now, Garreth?” She asked, eyes glinting with mischief as she eyed him sitting on the log. “You weren't waiting for me, were you?”

“Of course,” he smiled charmingly. “You know I'll always wait for you.”

A pretty blush stained her cheeks, and she bent to make a fuss of Rusty. “Maybe next time I should make you wait a little longer, keep you in suspense.”

Garreth slapped a hand over his heart and sighed dramatically. “Don't be cruel, MC. It's the highlight of Rusty's day greeting you with a happy, wagging tail. How could you do it to him? Look how pleased he is now that you're here! You should come earlier so he gets to have longer with you before you have to return.”

She lifted her gaze to his, her blush deepening into a glorious red as her gorgeous eyes narrowed. “Don't use Rusty as a tool to flirt with me, Garreth Weasley. Rusty is innocent and such a good boy.”

“Hey, I'm a good boy, too,” Garreth said. He held out his tin. “I'll even share my sandwich with you to prove it.”

Ignoring the hopeful gaze of his beloved dog, who he'd just told that his lunch was off limits, Garreth held the tin up as MC took a peek at his sandwich.

“Maybe just a little bite,” she said, lifting the sandwich from the tin.

As she sat on the log beside him, Rusty still trying to get her attention at their feet, Garreth gave her a warm smile. She smiled back around the sandwich, nudging her shoulder against his as she took a delicate bite.

“Don't look at me like that,” she said, holding her hand in front of her mouth as she chewed.

“Like what?” He lifted an eyebrow playfully.

“You know very well what I mean.” She was blushing again. He did love it when he made her blush.

“I've told you before,” he said, reaching to take hold of the end of her braid, the silken strands of her hair curling perfectly around his fingertips. “I will never stop looking at you like that, not even after you turn old and grey. My eyes were made to look at you that way, MC.”

She shook her head, and his smile only widened as he tugged teasingly at her braid until she was leaning towards him. He met her gaze and brushed his fingers lightly under her chin.

“I am going to marry you one day, MC,” he said confidently. “And then you won't need to hike the mile long trail here to see Rusty everyday, you can live here at the farm. With me.”

“You've been saying you're going to marry me since we were ten, Garreth,” she said, taking another bite of his sandwich. “Over ten years of just assuming I'll be your wife. That's not a proposal.”

He smiled and let her go, picking up his share of his half eaten sandwich. “You will, MC. I'm going to marry you, and we'll have loads of ginger babies together. You'll see.”

She laughed and gave him a shove. “What if someone else asks me first? I'm an eligible catch, I'll have you know. My father is a respectable shopkeeper, and I can cook and sew, too.”

“Like who?” He asked, sitting up straighter.

“Mr Turner from the post office hinted about escorting me to the summer barn dance. Maybe he will get down on one knee and ask me to be his bride.”

Garreth screwed his nose up. “Seriously? Tight arsed Turner? You've got to be joking. The bloke is so stiff he squeaks when he walks! What kind of lover would he be between the sheets?”

“Garreth!” She gasped, her hands flying to her face as even her neck flushed scarlet. “That's hardly appropriate conversation material.”

Garreth’s green eyes flashed mischievously as he looked at her, imagining how soft her skin would feel under his palms, how delicious those lips would feel against his own.

“Don't tell me you haven't thought about it,” he said softly, his voice low and raw in his throat.

Their gazes locked, and he could see the way her breaths had quickened, her chest rising and falling quickly under her blouse. “You are a free spirited young woman with fire in her soul. You're going to want a man who can leave you utterly breathless, a man who knows what he has in his arms when he holds you.”

Her eyes widened, her pupils dark and flickering with something that lifted the hope in his heart. “And you think you are the man fit for that challenge, do you?”

He smiled, confident and cheeky. “Come to the summer dance with me and find out.”

“Are you asking me to be your date, Garreth Weasley?”

“I am, and you can't say no either,” he said.

It was her turn to lift an eyebrow at him. "Is that so?”

“Absolutely. Rusty would be completely heartbroken if you turned me down, and you wouldn't want that now, would you?”

As if on cue, and totally planned, Rusty leant his head against her thigh, looking up at her with those beautiful, brown eyes.

“See?” Garreth scratched behind Rusty's ear again, his arm brushing against the warmth of her thigh.

He had made no secret of it. He wanted her. But, his silly teasing and playful flirting always seemed to be nothing more than banter between them. He wanted the real thing. He'd marry her tomorrow if she would have him.

MC glanced down at Rusty, stroking his soft fur before looking at Garreth. “Alright, you've got yourself a date to the summer dance,” she said, then held up a finger as his mouth split into a wide grin. “But, it needs to be a proper date. No silly jokes, and you definitely need to wear something smart. You can pick me up and escort me like a proper suitor.”

“I wouldn't dare expect anything less,” he said, his heart soaring.

….*....

Her arm was linked through his as they walked through the village, the sunset a glorious blend of pinks and gold across the sky, the hues reflected in the sparkle of her eyes. MC looked like an absolute dream in her pale blue dress, her hair pinned back from her face, with a waterfall of curling locks tumbling down her back. His chest swelled with pride that she was on his arm, and he couldn't wait to escort her to the dance.

They paused near the gated entrance of the old manor house, the sounds of music drifting across from the barn. Garreth patted a hand to his chest nervously. “So, will I do?”

He'd taken great care in bathing and attempting to tame his fiery locks, dressed in his best trousers and boots, his white shirt impeccably clean against the moss green of his waistcoat. He had even adorned his outfit with a plaid dickie bow, and he was sure he looked the part, but he wanted to hear her say it.

Her eyes took in his clothes, a smile teasing her lips. When she met his gaze, he felt the familiar warmth in his chest that came from just being in her presence.

“You look very smart,” she said, her fingers smoothing down the front of his waistcoat, making his cheeks warm. “Consider me impressed.”

“I should hope so,” he grinned. “I've got to look the part, escorting the prettiest girl in the village. That Mr Turner best be keeping his distance, that's all I will say.”

Enjoying the sound of her chuckle, they entered the barn to be greeted by the lively music coming from the band at the far end. Bales of straw had been set out for seating, along with wooden plank tables, ribbons, and colourful bunting, adding cheer to the space. Dancers were already twirling on the dance floor, but Garreth led MC towards a makeshift bar area and got them two mugs of ale. Taking a sip, he licked his lips, and a crease appeared on his brow.

“It’s no Butterbeer, but it will do,” he smirked. “I shall have to take you on a date to Hogsmeade, or even Diagon Alley in London, and show you some wizarding hospitality.”

MC lifted an eyebrow as she sipped at her beer. “You are fairly confident of a second date, then?”

Drawing on all his Gryffindor bravery, he lifted a hand up to her face, his thumb grazing gently along her cheekbone. “My plan is to sweep you off your feet, and take you on many, many more dates after this.”

Her blush was instant, and she couldn’t look any more beautiful. He could kiss her right now, but he held back, assuming the role of gentleman as they finished up their drinks and he led her out to the dancefloor.

Not one for fancy airs and graces, he felt a flutter of insecurity at first as they joined the other couples moving about the floor. He was a more practical man, used to using his hands for more physical tasks, his feet more inclined to be in work boots planted firmly in mud. Once he had his hand on her waist, though, the rest just seemed to flow instantly, his gaze transfixed on only her as they began to sway along to the beat. Her smile was for him, and it felt all together too marvellous to be holding her close like this.

After a few more dances, his pulse racing and his face hot, Garreth was smiling so wide his cheeks hurt. The lively steps were making them work up a sweat, but it was great fun, and he was sure to keep a firm hold on her as the songs ended and another began lest anyone had ideas about cutting in and stealing her away. As they skipped and twirled, her hair fanned out around her, the skirt of her dress billowing against his legs. Holding her gaze as he pulled her in close again, he splayed his hand at the small of her back, the ridges of her corset under her dress pressed against his palm. He felt the fire in his blood and didn’t even try to hold it back from his eyes.

Her mouth was parted as she breathed hard through the dance. The pink of her cheeks and the spark in her eyes felt heightened as they held the look between them. This was a different kind of magic, as old as time itself, and she was the only one who made him feel it. He cared little for the snobbish views regarding blood purity. She may be a Muggle born, but she had the power to charm him. The words in his heart danced and swirled along with him, threatening to escape and spill from his lips. Every thud of life in his body was all for her.

If he pressed his fingertips to the pulse at her throat, would it throb and flutter as hard and fast as his did right now. Could she feel the maddening rush of desire that warmed his blood as a match in her own veins?

For years, he had loved her with his eyes, in the gentle teasing and bold suggestions. His playful demands that he would marry her one day were honest truths, a reality he yearned for, and maybe, just maybe, he would be bold enough to make it a serious declaration. How do you make it special, though? She had hinted at wanting a proper proposal, and he knew it was tradition to place oneself on one knee and present a ring. Not normally one for stiff formality, he wondered if perhaps something a little different might be in order, but nothing too over the top lest it make her decline.

“Shall we get some more drinks?” She asked breathlessly, her fingers holding on tightly to his shoulder. Her flush had darkened, her eyes dipping to his mouth and then back to his eyes as though her heated blood really did answer in kind. “I’m feeling rather parched.”

Blinking away his grand ideas of making her his wife, Garreth nodded, his mouth slipping easily into a warm smile as he slowed their steps. “Of course, sweetheart,” he said with a bow over her hand.

“Such courtly behaviour, Garreth,” she chuckled, her eyes dancing as he straightened. “Who are you, really, and what have you done with the real Garreth?”

“I’m offended!” He said with a little cry of mocking disbelief. “I am the epitome of gentlemanly behaviour at all times.”

She leant in closer, her arm linked through his, the softness of her against him making his blood heat to new levels. As she tilted her head to speak nearer to his ear, he felt his throat close against the mad flutter in his chest. “Does a gentleman hint at what he can do to a free spirited woman once he has her in his arms? I believe you mentioned such things as leaving her breathless?”

Eyes widening in surprise, he turned his head to meet her gaze, their faces achingly close, tempting him even further to dare risking a taste. “You remembered what I said,” he murmured.

“Every word,” she breathed, her eyes darkening. He could have sworn she moved closer, his tongue sliding to wet his lower lip at the promise of claiming the softness of her plush mouth.

“I meant it, you know,” he said softly, his gaze devouring her face with utter devotion. “I know exactly what I would be holding in my arms, and I would endeavour to show you just how much that would mean, leaving you completely breathless in the process.”

Her smirk was devilishly naughty, the spark in her eyes spellbinding. “Would you like to deflower me, Garreth Weasley?”

His teeth caught at his lower lip, sinking down into the soft flesh at the images those words presented to him, barely swallowing back the desperate whimper that threatened to escape his throat. Barely even registering that they were standing in a barn full of their fellow villagers making merry, his hand tightened at her waist as his eyes burned into hers.

“In the most gentlemanly way possible, I would very much like to ravish you,” he said, his voice thick with loaded desire.

Their gazes locked in a blistering promise of a passion unmet, Garreth heard his heart thundering in his ears. This was more than bodily urges. This was soul defining, surely. Poets wrote about this kind of feeling, and whilst he was certain he could never put it all into words, with his very hands, he would make every endeavour to show her.

“Garreth!” A sharp tug on his sleeve joined the urgent bark of his name, jarring Garreth from the moment, his eyes blinking in dazed surprise as he turned to see his youngest brother beside him. “Bloody hell, Garreth. I've been calling your name across the room. Are you deaf?”

“What?” Garreth frowned, trying to comprehend why his brother was here, his shirt almost as filthy as his face, his ginger mop of hair wild with a leaf caught in the curls. “What in Merlin's name are you doing here, Hector?”

Hector turned his gaze towards MC, his lips twitching into a cheeky smirk. “Alright, MC? You're looking delectably pretty this evening.”

“Leave it out, you little rascal,” Garreth said, rolling his eyes and giving Hector his full attention. “What are you doing here? You look like you've crawled through a hedge backwards.”

“That's because I have,” Hector said, his cheeky smirk still in place. “That's why I'm here. Ma has got her wand in a right ole knot. The baby goats escaped, and they ransacked her vegetable patch. She cast out a hex or two, and now one of them has got pink fur.”

Garreth’s eyes widened. “She did what? Godric’s balls.”

He groaned and put a hand to his head. Those mischievous little goats had been the bane of his existence since their birth, escaping and chewing their way through all sorts. If he didn't have such a massive soft spot for them, he would have jinxed them all himself by now.

“Did you manage to catch them all?” MC asked, a worried crease appearing in her brow. She, too, had been on the receiving end of the little scamps during her times helping out at the farm.

Hector shook his head. “Nope, there's still three on the loose, so I thought I'd better fetch you, Garreth. They like you. One of those little bastards bit me on the finger, so it did.”

“Oi, language,” Garreth scolded, holding a stern finger up. “There are ladies present.”

At Hector's rueful smirk, he got hold of his arm with the intent of marching his rapscallion of a brother out of the barn. Glancing at MC, he caught her amused look and shook his head, fighting back his own grin.

“I'm so sorry,” he said, his hand catching hold of hers. “This is going to spoil the evening. I need to go back and help round up these baby goats.”

“And I am coming with you,” she said firmly, grasping his hand and delicately lifting the hem of her skirts. “It sounds like you're going to need my help.”

In the seconds he had spare to stare at her before they all began to head for the door, he was reminded yet again at how fiercely his heart beat for her.

….*....

With his wand between his teeth, the glow of his Lumos spell illuminating his face and the ground before him, Garreth launched forwards and wrapped his hands around the middle of the baby goat munching on one of his mother's rose bushes. The goat bleated in protest, and Rusty the dog came scampering over, tail wagging excitedly.

“Gotcha, you little rascal,” Garreth mumbled around the wood of his wand, tucking the little goat under his arm as he turned towards the barn.

The goat was trying to nibble his now wonky bow tie, his curls a ruffled mess from the searching in bushes. The evening had not turned out how he had been expecting. Visions of romantic dancing and maybe even a cheeky kiss were fading from his thoughts as he entered the lamp lit barn.

MC was at the goat pen in the far corner, bending over the now mended fencing as she made a fuss of the mother goat. He could hear the soft murmur of her voice as she scratched under the chin of the beast, seemingly uncaring about the smears of dirt on the skirts of her pretty dress and the mud on her shoes. She had not been afraid to chase after the escaped kids in her fine clothing, traipsing through mud and greenery in her attempts to retrieve them.

“I've got another one,” Garreth said, returning his wand to his pocket as he lifted a very wriggly kid over the fence.

“One more to go, then,” MC said with a sigh. She moved closer and reached out for his hand. “Come on, let's go catch her together.”

“Her?” Garreth asked, lifting an eyebrow.

“Yes, it's Blossom that's missing. The one with the patch on her tummy that looks like a heart,” MC said, holding tight to his hand as they walked back out into the dark of the yard.

“You've named them?” He chuckled, shaking his head. “You do know they are to be sold soon, don't you?”

“They still need names, Garreth,” she insisted with a smile. “How can they not have names when they have such funny, little personalities.”

He paused in his step to look at her, a soft look on his face. “Considering how these little personalities have wrecked our plans for the evening, you are being rather affectionate towards them.”

Her smile shifted into something rather playful as she stepped even closer, her free hand lifting to adjust his bow tie. “We only have one more naughty kid to catch, Garreth,” she said, lifting her eyes to meet with his. “And the night isn't over yet.”

A little flutter erupted in his tummy, warm and pleasing as his mouth tilted upwards into a grin. “That sounds promising.”

The bleating of the remaining escaped goat sounded across the yard, coming from where the old stables stood against a backdrop of trees. Once again, a mischievous goat was determined to interrupt any moment that had the potential to turn interesting with MC.

Turning to try and catch a glimpse of Blossom was rather pointless in the dark, and Garreth slipped his wand from his pocket again. This was the last goat to catch, and then he could have MC all to himself.

“Hold that promising thought of yours,” he smirked and held up his wand. “Lumos!”

Still holding hands, they crept swiftly across the yard, the light from his wand illuminating the darkness and pressing back the shadows as they approached the stables, their feet squelching in the mud. Rusty was already snuffling ahead of them, nose down and tail up until he caught a scent. With an excited bark, he was off, scampering around the corner of the old, brick building, and the little goat came bounding out of the darkness.

“There you are, Blossom!” MC said, holding out a hand. Blossom had other ideas, though, and skipped sideways in a move that was almost like a dance. “Oh, you little rascal!”

MC lunged to catch her, missed, and slid on the mud. Her startled cry pierced the night as she grabbed at Garreth, catching his arm so forcefully that he was yanked forward in a sudden lurch. It all seemed to happen in slow motion, the arc of light as his wand arm swung, his booted feet sliding out from under him. In his efforts to be a gentleman and keep MC upright, he took the fall, hitting the sticky mud with a splat.

“Oof!”

“My goodness, are you alright?” MC said, holding her hands to her mouth as she looked down at him, Rusty bouncing eagerly forward and shoving his wet nose right into Garreth’s face.

Somehow, Garreth had managed to keep his wand arm up in the air, his spell still lit at the tip. His other hand was buried in the mud, his face a grimace of disgust as he shifted into a sitting position.

“I'm alright. Easy, boy, easy,” he said, attempting to calm Rusty, who thought this was an impromptu play session.

It was at this point that Blossom the baby goat decided to take a flying leap into the air in all the excitement, and she jumped right onto Garreth’s broad shoulders, head butting him in the process. His grunt of pain at the smack of her hooves and head was lost in the bellow of laughter that erupted from MC's mouth. She was bent over with it, her eyes sparkling in the light from his wand as he struggled to get Blossom down into his lap with one arm.

“Oi, don't laugh! A little help here?” He muttered through a smirk, slipping in the mud as he tried to keep hold of Blossom and keep his wand aloft.

“Of course…I'm s-sorry,” MC gasped around her chuckles, holding out her arms to take little Blossom. “Here, let me…”

Scooping an excitable Blossom into her arms, coating her dress in fresh smears of mud, MC quietened her chuckles as Garreth got to his feet. He tried to shake the mud from his hand, his eyes roaming over his ruined shirt and trousers.

“Well, there goes my nice, smart shirt. Bloody hell, I can't go back to the dance looking like this,” he grumbled, his gaze moving to MC. “And look at your lovely dress.”

“Could you use one of your fancy spells to make it all better?” She asked.

He could. In fact, he knew just the spell, and she had always been so delighted with the magic that he could do. It had always been his pleasure and a wonderful excuse to keep her near him, to show her the spells he could do. Transfiguration objects would make her clap her hands excitedly, bringing him objects to switch up into something new. The best one was charming magical delights to impress her like little birds or butterflies. It was worth it just to see that glow of wonder in her eyes, her awe, and praise for him, making his chest swell and his dreams would fill with hope.

Standing there in the mud with her, watching her make a fuss over the naughty goat, he realised that he didn't need to make all the mud disappear. None of this bothered her. Not the escaped goats putting a stop to their dance, not the running around in the dark trying to catch them, and definitely not the mud marking her skirts. She loved this place almost as much as he did. It was home, and this was where they belonged. She had to feel it, too.

“You look beautiful even when you're covered in mud, MC,” he said, his voice a little hoarse. “I'd even go so far as to say you are especially beautiful when you're all grubby and getting stuck in with the work around here. We are lucky to have you.”

Her smile was particularly lovely as she petted Blossom on the head, the goat trying to nibble on the lace at the front of her dress, and he was certain that she was blushing. Instead of a cheeky come back as she was wont to do, her words were soft, her eyes full of a deeper meaning. “I love it here, Garreth. I always have. I'm happy to be able to help out.”

She loved it here. Surely, it was meant to be.

“Let's get Blossom back to her family,” he said with a chuffed smile, nodding towards the barn, that warm feeling spreading behind his chest at her words. “And like you said, the night isn't over yet.”

….*....

With the goats all now safely in their pen, Garreth stood with his hands in his pockets and a rueful smile on his face as MC approached him under the flickering lamp of the barn. She smirked as she attempted to straighten his dickie bow again, her gaze taking in the mud staining his shirt and waistcoat.

“Oh, Garreth, you even have little hoofprints on your shoulder,” she chuckled, brushing against it with her fingertips.

“All part of the farm life,” he said, tilting his head as he gazed upon her. “I'm just sorry it ruined the summer dance for you. I'm sure if Mr Turner had escorted you, there would have been no goat drama, and you would likely still be dancing right now.”

A flutter of insecurity began to tap dance behind his ribs. MC was a rare one, and he did not blame other gentlemen for their interest in her hand. Despite knowing her since they were young children, this did not place any right or claim on her, no matter how he longed for it. He was cheeky and flirty. He made bold statements about her being his wife one day, but her heart was her own to give.

He was just a farm boy with a gift for magical spells and the odd calamity. Was he enough for her?

As she stared up at him, the glow of the lamp reflecting in her pretty eyes, he searched for the disappointment in her gaze but found only warmth.

“I'd rather be here with you in the mud and chaos, than dancing with a man who doesn't understand me,” she said softly. Her face moved subtly closer, her hand still resting on his shoulder. “What you said to me the other day about needing someone who knew what they had when they held you. You were right. Mr Turner may be polite, and he is most gracious when he speaks to me, but his eyes do not hold the power that makes me forget how to breathe.”

The pace of Garreth’s heartbeat began to pick up, a hand leaving his pocket to reach for her waist. Her warmth came even closer at the urging of his touch. “Tell me more about such eyes,” he murmured, swallowing thickly against the desire building within.

“Eyes like a forest in spring,” she said, her fingers moving to touch against his throat, her caress like fire as she slid them tentatively up towards his jaw, unravelling the edges of his control. “Eyes that make my skin come alive when they look at me, eyes filled with a fire that I am certain nobody else sees but me. I could get lost in those eyes if I wanted to, I'm sure of it.”

She was so close now, he could see the myriad of flecks in the pools of her eyes, and he figured he knew what she meant. “Do you want to get lost in them?” He asked, the underlying tension in his words as dark and smooth as honey.

The air felt molten and ablaze between them, all his nerve endings stretched taut with the need to feel every inch of her pressed against him.

“I think I already am,” she whispered.

Endless day dreams and hours spent picturing how it would be to kiss MC, and now that his lips were finally pressed against hers, the real thing surpassed anything his mind could have painted. Softer than he had dared believed, her mouth sealed against his in a first kiss that had his toes curling inside his muddied boots.

It wasn't too heated, and yet his blood was ablaze, the gentle pressure just enough to show the desire behind it. The shuddering breath he managed to pull into his lungs took some of the tension from his frame as he pressed his forehead to hers, his eyes seeking the comfort of her gaze.

“Dance with me once more,” he said, his voice laden with the need of her.

“I offer you kisses, and you want to dance?”

Her eyes sparkled with a mischief he recognised, but Garreth merely smirked and took out his wand. In the corner near where they stood was a collection of farm tools, brooms and a rake, a shovel, that kind of thing. With a few careful wrist movements, his lips murmuring a charm learnt in a lesson taught by his Aunt Matilda, those practical and useful implements lifted up from the ground. In graceful twists and turns, imbued with the power of the magic that ran through his veins, Garreth performed the transfiguration spell to make a quartet of string instruments.

“Garreth!” MC exclaimed, her hands coming up to her mouth as the instruments began to play a rather charming piece of music.

Eyeing the look of wonder on her face, his smile was rather pleased as he slid a hand across her lower back and urged her closer towards him. “Not bad, hmm? If we can’t be at the dance, then we shall bring the dance to us.”

Taking a hand and holding her more firmly, his fingers splayed at her back in a manner that suggested she was his alone. He spun them about in a smooth turn of dance.

“Show off,” she admonished playfully, letting him lead her across the floor of the barn.

It didn't matter that they were plastered in mud or that they were dancing in the barn with a family of goats for company beside hundreds of hay bales stacked ready for winter. He was here with her, and she was in his arms, her smiling face turned up to him with a warm glow in her eyes.

“I may be a show off, but only for you,” he said with a wink. Swallowing down his nerves, he adjusted his grip at her waist. It was time to summon the bravery his school house was known for. “Anything for the girl I love.”

He heard the swift intake of her breath, her feet stilling amongst the loose straw strands scattered across the floor. The music played on as they stood and stared at each other, a hot blush blooming across his cheeks.

“Do you mean that, Garreth?” Her voice was breathless, her eyes wide. “You love me?”

“I do,” he nodded, his throat closing up with emotion. “I love you.”

Her gaze dipped to his chest, her eyes shifting from side to side, a kaleidoscope of emotions dancing across her features. Panic took wing within him, his fingers gripping tightly at the back of her dress. Had he spoken out of turn? Was it too much? Perhaps he had read the look in her eyes all wrong.

When she finally lifted her gaze back to him, the tell tale shine of unshed tears glittered in her eyes. “But…I'm just a normal girl, Garreth,” she said, shaking her head as though she didn't understand. “I don't have magic. I am one of those Muggle people in your world. Why would you want me when you could have someone who can conjure fire, or…or wonderful instruments to make music. I'm nothing special…”

“You are everything!” He declared, shifting his hands to cup her beautiful face, his heart squeezing at her fears. “You are all that I want. Nobody else could ever come close. Another girl could have all the magic in the world, and I would still choose you. Please, don't ever think that you are not good enough, MC. I love you all the way from your bonnie hair to your muddy shoes.”

Her lips trembled, and a tear escaped, streaking down her cheek. He caught it with his thumb, caressing the softness of her skin as he felt the burn behind his own eyes.

“I'm probably being a sentimental fool here, but it's the truth,” he said, resting his forehead against hers and taking a shaky breath. “Please, say something.”

A broken whimper left her mouth as she wrapped her arms about him, her fingers clutching at the back of his waistcoat as she pressed a kiss to his mouth. “I love you, too,” she said, the words like a balm against his lips.

Like a dam released, he pressed kisses to her mouth, her nose, his lips raining his affections across her cheeks until she was giggling in his arms. Hearing her speak those words made his heart skip a beat, his emotions threatening to spill over, and so he used his lips to express himself rather than make a fool of himself and speak. He feared his voice would crack, and the burn in his eyes would turn into real tears.

“Are you trying to kiss me everywhere?” She laughed, breaking through the ecstatic tension in his chest.

His eyebrows lifted with cheeky intrigue, his fingers ghosting along the lacy neckline of her dress near her collarbone. Humour and flirting were definitely more in his comfort zone. “Hmm, that depends on how literally you mean everywhere.”

Her cheeks reddened, and she gasped, but her smile turned almost as mischievous as his own. “This sounds most improper, Garreth,” she teased. “Perhaps a hint at how a gentleman may leave a girl breathless.”

“Oh, it's wonderfully improper. Would you like a demonstration, my lady?”

“Garreth! Not in front of the kids.” She nodded her head towards the goat pen across the barn, her mouth tilting into a teasing smile.

Glancing from the mischievous goats to the girl of his heart, Garreth gave her his most wicked smile. “But of course, my love,” he said, taking her hand. “Right this way.”

Heart hammering with excited anticipation, Garreth tugged MC away from the goats as he ended the music with a flick of his wrist, leading her around the huge stacks of hay bales to a darker, more secluded part of the barn. He let her go to shift a few of the heavy bales, uncaring about dirtying clothes already ruined, until he had a suitable spot in which to render his girl breathless. Circling her within his arms again, he kissed her gently, searching her eyes for answers. “Only on your word, MC.”

“You have it,” she nodded.

As their kisses became longer and more heated, his blood fired to a burn that made him giddy. He lifted her off her feet and placed her down on the sweet-smelling bales. Deepening the kiss, he braced himself on his elbows, trying not to crush her with his weight. Her body arched towards him, the press of her curves making him ache with such fierceness.

“Tell me you feel this, too,” he said, his mouth devouring the tender flesh of her throat.

“Like fire,” she gasped.

Her cheeks were flushed, her hair pooled around her head in a tumble of glossy curls, and her skin was addictive against his tongue. His fingers worked at the fastening of her dress, pulling the sleeves from her shoulders to expose more soft flesh to explore. Her gasping, tortured breaths filled his ears as he mouthed along her collar bone, dragging the dress downwards before reaching to pull at the laces of her corset. Crossing the line from friends to lovers had been his dream, his hope, and now it was his reality.

As her nimble fingers worked on the buttons of his waistcoat, his gaze blazed a trail over her chest, confined within the corset that he was eager to be rid of. Bending down, his tongue slid delicately along the plump flesh, pushed upwards over the top of the constrictive bindings, groaning at the promise of what his hands longed to hold. But, the laces were being stubborn, his fingers tugging with an urgency that made her chuckle.

“Rather impatient, aren’t you?” She teased, cupping his face.

“I’ve been dreaming of this for so long,” he groaned, grabbing her waist with the intention of spinning her around. “Roll over, darling. I refuse to be outwitted by a corset. I have my heart set on burying myself in the delights hidden underneath, so this naughty piece of lace and bone is about to meet my barn floor.”

Her laughter brought a smirk to his face as he rolled her atop the bales, pulling the laces free until the corset loosened. He immediately slipped it from her body, discarding it so he could smooth his hands over the red indents the restrictive garment had made on her skin. She was like satin and silk, so sensual under the touch of his work-roughened hands.

“So beautiful,” he murmured, bending to press soft kisses along the length of her spine. Urging her upright, she sighed as she pressed up against his bare chest, her head falling back as he slid her hair aside to suck gently at the base of her neck. “Let me feel you,” he whispered.

Fingers teasing around her ribs, he peered over her shoulder as his hands sought out the full weight of her breasts. Divinely soft, he cupped them both, closing his eyes for a few seconds to savour the feel of her against his palms. She turned her head, her fingers delving into the thick curls of his hair. As he met her heated stare, the glaze of desire he could see there had him claiming her mouth in another hungry kiss.

Emboldened by her low moan, he let one hand drift over the softness of her stomach, caressing with a trembling touch before he dared to delve lower. Her dress was bunched about her thighs, his fingers sliding easily under the waistband of her underwear. Her breath caught in her throat as his fingertips brushed through the thatch of her hair, but she shuffled her knees further apart to allow him access.

“Are you sure?” He asked, needing to know that she wanted this as much as he did.

“Please…”

His fingers caressed through the heated slick of her most intimate flesh, and Garreth felt his cheeks burn at her willingness, her soft moans driving him to explore her further, teasing at her entrance before sliding a finger into the silken heat that awaited.

“Gods…” The word left his mouth in a breath of awe. She felt exquisite, and his arousal strained against the confines of his undershorts, molten fire gathering deep in his loins.

As her hips rolled seductively against his hand, he worked to a rhythm, slowly stretching her until he could add a second finger. The tightness of her inner walls posed the idea that he might need to take care when entering himself into her. He ached for it, longed to make her his knowing he would be the first to do so, but he did not want to hurt her. For now, he concentrated his efforts on pleasing her, seeking out the tiny pearl of her pleasure.

Savouring every sound that slipped from her mouth, he whispered in her ear, pressing kisses along her jaw, and he kept a warm hand around her breast. Watching her writhe with pleasure, the skin of her throat darkening with a rosy blush as her whimpers intensified, he coaxed her ever closer to the peak.

“Garreth…I’m close,” she panted, her fingers gripping into his hair with an eye watering grasp.

“I’m right here, sweetheart,” he murmured into her ear. “Relax, give in to it. I won’t let you go.”

Groaning at the delicious pressure of her peachy backside against his arousal, he felt the quiver of her muscles, her hips bearing down as her body surrendered to the fire. He slowed his fingers, coaxing her along the crest of the wave, watching her through his lidded gaze as she climaxed in his arms. Her moans were beautiful, but nothing could be more satisfying than hearing his name whispered through her lips like some kind of prayer. Bringing her to this point gave him a sense of pride, the love he felt for her swelling behind his ribs as he shifted her around so he could hold her against him.

Burying her face into his neck, she clung to him, the heat of her laboured breaths against his skin urging him to stroke his hands up and down her back as she came back to herself. They whispered their words of love to each other, taking a moment to pause and reflect before she cupped his face in her hands. Her gaze was one of hazy bliss, cheeks flushed, and a gorgeous smile on her lips.

“You were good on your word, Garreth Weasley,” she said, her thumb sliding temptingly close to his mouth. “Consider me thoroughly breathless.”

“Oh, but I am not done yet,” he said, capturing her thumb with his lips and sucking gently. She watched him do it, her eyes darkening again, lips parted.

“Of course,” she murmured softly, her eyes lifting to stare into his. “I had always secretly hoped that you would be the one to take me for the first time. I dared to dream of it. All those times you would smile and say that I would be your wife one day, I stored those moments in my secret heart and feared that another, a beautiful and talented witch, would come and steal you away.”

“Never,” he insisted, holding her closer, pressing the warmth of her flesh even closer against his. He kissed her on the mouth, his lips lingering before speaking again. “I meant every word, you know. I may smile and tease you, but there was always truth behind those words.”

Taking her hand, he pressed it against where his heart thudded against his chest, more serious than he had ever been in his life. “Feel that? Every beat is for you. I want you to be my girl, my wife. I want you to be there when I wake up every day. Marry me, MC.”

“A thousand times, yes!” Her smile was dazzling, and she wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him tightly. She didn’t even hesitate with her answer, and he squeezed her back, hardly daring to believe it.

All the grand gestures and speeches he had mulled over didn’t seem to matter, the charade of going down on one knee, the stiff formalities all forsaken. They were half naked in his barn, bits of hay stuck to them, their clothes filthy. But, it didn’t matter. This was their truth, and he had spoken with his heart, and by some miracle, she had said yes.

Capturing her mouth in a long, fierce kiss, he cupped her face, a grin appearing as his verdant eyes twinkled. “You will be my Mrs Weasley. I can’t wait to see ole ‘stiff upper lip’ Turner’s face when I call you that.”

“It’s not a competition, Garreth,” she chided gently, playing with a lock of his hair.

“Oh, but it is, my love. You are the prettiest girl in the village, and you are all mine. That makes me a winner. Just wait until I tell Rusty he is going to be so happy about this!”

MC chuckled and leaned into him, pressing her forehead to his as she bit down on her lower lip. “As much as I adore that pup of yours, he is going to have to wait. We have unfinished business to attend to.”

“We do?” Feigning innocence, he waited, watching and loving the fire igniting in her gaze.

A breathless moan escaped his throat as her hand slid down to palm against the front of his trousers, his arousal waking from its semi-slumber at her touch. Her lips grazed against his in a teasing kiss, her eyes locked with his. Gods, she made his blood burn.

“Make me yours,” she whispered against his mouth.

Laying naked on the hay bales beneath him, her legs parted to welcome him, MC looked like perfection. His eyes blazed with his desire as he admired the soft curves, his fingers stroking against her glistening and inviting entrance as he prepared her for him. Taking his time to savour the intimacy and to ensure her comfort, Garreth pressed himself into her slick heat, biting his lip against his urgent need. So tight and hot, she squeezed around him, his cock throbbing as he slid deeper.

At her wince, he paused, but her fingers bit into his hips, urging him to push. “Don’t stop,” she gasped, glancing down to where they were joined.

Moving slowly at first, the pleasure began to build until his eyes became glazed, liquid fire pooling with blissful ecstasy at the base of his spine. Her little hands clung to him, her grip fierce and hungry, her head thrown back, and lips parted as she moaned beneath him. He couldn’t get enough. It was erotic and sensual. It was blowing his mind. The feel of her was driving him insane and his climax was imminent.

Looking down at where he thrust into her, watching as he filled her over and over, his hips snapped harder. The slap of their flesh punctuated his rhythm, the harshness of his breaths becoming cries of ecstasy as the heat exploded in his lower back, his hips slamming forward until he was fully sheathed within her tight heat. Eyes closed as the pulsing wave of his orgasm overcame him, he shuddered as thick spurts of release spilt deep inside of her. Behind his eyelids, the erotic image of MC’s flushed and naked body seared through his thoughts.

As the wave of his orgasm began to ebb, he gently rolled his hips, grinding against her as though pressing his seed even deeper inside. They were not married yet, but he did not regret filling her up. In fact, it was incredibly arousing to think of it. Gasping air into his lungs, he opened his eyes as he felt her hands urging him closer. Her smile was soft, her fingers gentle as she smoothed his hair back from his sweat slicked forehead.

“I love you,” she whispered, her mouth pressing delicate kisses on his flushed face.

A subtle movement of her hips made him moan softly, the sensitivity of her walls flexing around his very happy cock sending shivers up his spine. Seeking out her mouth for a kiss filled with longing, he realised that it was possible to fall in love even deeper than before. Staring into those eyes, he had certainly got lost in them, lost in her, and now she would be his forever.

Their future lay ahead, living here on the family farm where they could raise their children. Perhaps they would be magical, like him, and they would go to Hogwarts. Even if they weren’t, and they were like their mother, he wouldn’t mind. They would be Weasleys, they would be loved, and that was a wonderful and beautiful thought.

#hogwarts legacy fanfic #garreth weasley #garreth weasley smut #garreth weasley x mc #weasley wednesday #blueraineshadows

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dvinaamesca · 5 months

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#hogwarts legacy screenshots #garreth weasley #weasley wednesday #hogwartslegacy #garrethweasleyscreenshots #gryffindor

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ashisgreedy · 9 months

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Garreth Weasely x F!MC

“My Fire In Your Veins”

Dragon Shifter Fantasy AU

WC: 8,200

Summary: In a world invaded by dragons, humanity's survival is a daily struggle as cities crumble. Amidst this chaos, MC encounters a dragon, but instead of violence, he transforms into a human-like man, forging a carnal connection with her.

A Monster Romance Short Story

The distant roar that echoed through the skies didn't prompt her to seek shelter immediately. Along with the other survivors, she hastily extinguished the campfire and efficiently stowed away their provisions. Each person diligently performed their role, and in no time, the campsite was dismantled, and they set off toward the nearby cave their scout had located earlier.

The dragons, though a constant presence, had yet to pose an immediate threat to them in the forest. They usually flew toward the distant side of the valley and beyond the ridge, allowing the survivors some semblance of familiarity and routine. These creatures typically found their preferred havens in elevated, expansive areas that could comfortably accommodate their entire group.

Approaching the cave, the sound of rushing air reached MC's ears, an all-too-familiar precursor to attacks. The dragon's arrival was heralded by a massive shadow blocking out the sun. A chill gripped her veins, propelling her into a frantic sprint toward the cave. Other members of the group stifled their cries, one among them already in tears as they hurriedly gathered beneath the protective canopy of the trees.

Inhaling deeply, she surged forward, arms pumping with determination as the cave entrance drew nearer. Yet, an abrupt roar from above sent her stumbling, her heart thundering in her chest. She instinctively covered her ears, bracing herself for the potential inferno of heat that could erupt from the dragon's jaws.

Its wings flapped just above and she swallowed her heart, urging her legs to push her forward just a bit faster. She glanced back, anticipating the group to be right behind her, only to find herself utterly alone. Her eyes widened, panic racing through her mind like wildfire. A desperate gaze flickered between the cave's entrance and the path she had just come, uncertainty paralyzing her. In these perilous times, being abandoned was practically a death sentence. The dragon's roar must have sent the others fleeing in the opposite direction. Inwardly cursing her oversight, frustration burned within her.

Opting to bolt toward the cave, she dashed until her calves screamed in protest. A resounding thud to her left sent her stumbling forward, her knees catching her in the fall. Her teeth clamped on her lip, stifling any outcry. A deep exhalation behind her caused her lungs to seize. The colossal presence loomed just at her back, a shiver racing down her spine. The entire forest fell into an eerie hush, as though the very trees were holding their breath.

Avoiding a glance backward, she remained immobilized by fear. A shiver coursed through her as another huff and inquisitive sniffle came from behind. Though she had never encountered one up close, her imagination conjured the sheer magnitude of their snout, an image about the size of a carriage.

With a menacing snarl, its colossal wings beat, setting leaves and branches into a frenzied whirl. She struggled to swallow past her parched throat, her hands turning numb before starting to shake.

Silence stretched for a long moment, eventually emboldening her to steal a glance. If these were her final moments, she wanted to quench her curiosity. Yet, the instant her gaze landed on the scene a wave of regret washed over her.

The dragon was massive. A hulking, spiked monstrosity shrouded in sharp garnet and gold scales sculpted perfectly to its muscular body. A single talon, the size of her entire body, was more than enough to eviscerate her.

Her stomach twisted as her head moved up its towering figure towards its face. A gasp escaped her lips as she locked with its immense slit-shaped pupils, their attention laser-focused on her. It's eyes were a swirl of greens with an obsidian core.

She recoiled as its jaws parted, a plume of smoke unfurling. This was the moment, an undeniable certainty coursing through her veins. She was about to be blasted with the hottest fire known to man, the very same that had wiped out entire forests and cities. She refused to close her eyes as she waited for sweet release.

Yet, seconds stretched into an eternity, and the Dragon seemed to exude an air of disinterest. Her brows pinched in confusion as it sat still, spiky tail lashing behind itself.

After a short while, her shoulders eased their tension. However, they tensed right back up as the Dragon began to stir, as if... shrinking? Her eyes widened in bewilderment as she watched the dragon change right before her, transforming into the shape of a human man.

Her jaw was on the floor as he ruffled his crimson curly hair and blinked until his slitted pupils transformed into round black circles. Lifting his gaze to her, an amused expression played across his features. Despite his fair complexion, his skin boasted tiny golden flecks and human-like freckles.

He took a step forward and she took a step back. It was undoubtedly a 'he', revealed by his obvious display of masculinity, with no clothing whatsoever to hide his modesty. She averted her eyes above the waist, observing as red scales seemed to dissolve as he continued to transform, giving way to sleek, unblemished skin across most of his body.

He halted, his now considerably smaller scarlet wings unfurling, stretching out broadly. The veined wings were tipped with small talon-like claws. After looking her over once more, he took another casual step forward.

The wings outstretched looked more like a warning than anything but it reminded her of male birds in the wild having bright obnoxious colors to attract a mate. It was almost funny to her how he strutted over, glowing with confidence, almost.

She didn’t run, knowing damn well she’d never make it out of the clearing. She kept her eyes glued on him and allowed him to approach us slowly as he was.

The closer he got the more obvious their size difference was. Though human-like in form, he was much larger than any average man. He towered over her, surpassing her height by several heads.

Despite her determination, she took an involuntary step back as he approached. The tree's presence behind her made her jump causing the dragon-shifter to crack a smirk.

“Um, Hello?” She said, shattering the prolonged silence. His gaze fixated on her lips, eyebrows arching in surprise. “Do you speak… English?” She tried again finding her voice wavering. The adrenaline rush that had gripped her was beginning to subside, yet her chest remained constricted.

Amusement danced in his eyes, each time she spoke, his attention seemed to linger on her lips as if intrigued. She pressed her back harder into the tree. She realized he wasn't inclined to speak or even attempt communication in any possible language he may have.

The methods of communication among the dragon species had confounded humans. Over time, it had become evident that dragons separated by vast distances could somehow coordinate attacks or migrations, despite never being observed having interacted before. This mystery had perplexed everyone, leaving their communication methods shrouded in conjecture and conspiracy theories.

His gaze intensified as he drew nearer. Leaning in, he inhaled deeply through his nose, exhaling in a lengthy sigh.

As he got closer, his outstretched wings blocked her view of the forest making her heart gallop in her chest. She felt akin to a mouse ensnared by a cat.

She cleared her throat. “Hi.” She said a bit louder than before. She waved her hand, capturing his attention. His brows knitted as he examined her hand, creases appearing on his forehead.

He looked closely at her hand as she presented it to him. She watched as his perplexity grew. He countered by extending his own hand, dwarfing hers by almost twice the size. His fingers were tipped with short, yet sharp, claw-like nails. Her mind raced, contemplating his intentions. Would he strike her down now? Perhaps a razor-sharp nail to her throat?

He glanced back at her hand, then at his own, releasing a huff through his nose as he shook his head. His gaze shifted, moving more leisurely across her form.

A thought occurred to her, was he scrutinizing their differences? There were a lot of differences actually, such as the lack of garnet scales draping her shoulders and fading into her chest. His scales mixed nicely into his pale skin, fading until none were peppering his flat stomach.

The wind picked up, evoking a groan from him as he inhaled deeply once more. His face neared hers and she could smell the forest air wafting from his body. The scent of dried rain and crisp leaves accosted her senses.

His hand lifted, gently touching her hair, careful of his claws. She remained motionless as he leaned closer, inhaling the scent of her hair. A contented sigh escaped him before he shifted his focus to her neck. There, she felt the faintest graze of his tongue, causing her to jerk away. The dragon shifter looked happy with himself as he walked to her other side with a newfound purpose.

“That was…. Nice.” She offered, an odd sensation settling over her. But, this man was holding his life in her hands. She could play nice until the opportunity for her to escape arose.

She jumped when his hand moved up the center of her back. Startled, she took several strides forward, distancing herself from him and leaving him standing by the tree alone.

“Woah, ha…” She struggled to contain her reaction, trying to avoid offending him. “That..” She shook her head and buried her face in her hands. She couldn't wrap her head around what was happening.

The shock had overwhelmed her ever since the dragon's astonishing transformation before her eyes. She wondered just how long these dragon invaders had been able to do that. Were they born with this ability?

He frowned, walking toward her again. He lifted his hand and slowly reached out to touch her face. Before his hand met her skin he paused, looking into her eyes.

It dawned on her that he was silently asking permission to touch her. She didn't know if she exactly had a real choice in the matter. In response, she nodded, allowing his hand to make contact, her face tilting into his touch as she took a deep breath.

His eyes lit up as his gentle hand cradled her face. He hummed happily, tracing down her neck and across her shoulder. Heat radiated from his skin leaving warmth in the wake of his touch. When his claw brushed against her arm, she realized it was more blunt than she had initially assumed, lacking the razor-sharp point.

She took in a deep breath, feeling his gentle touch all the way down to her hand. His gaze sought hers, and he grinned in triumph. Her brows furrowed with puzzlement, the world suddenly shifted, and her cheek met the ground. A shocked exhale escaped her, swirling dirt around her face.

His palm pressed on her head, keeping her face against the ground. She kicked out, but the motion came to an abrupt halt when he positioned his groin against her raised backside. She gulped, her fingers clenching the grass beneath her.

He ground against her, drawing her hips back into his body. The fabric of her pants acted as a barrier, dulling the sensation, but the contours of his cock were unmistakable.

She yelped when he folded his body atop hers, breath tickling her ear. He rutted against her, and she instinctively shut her eyes.

“Um? What the fuck is going on…” She asked rhetorically, knowing the dragon had no idea what she was saying.

Inhaling her scent, his heart pounded against her back. The more he ground his hips, the firmer he became against her backside.

He huffed, pulling back slightly. She watched as he raked his fingers through his curls, groaning. His gaze locked onto hers, his hand gesturing for her in a general sense.

She didn’t move, cheek still pressed to the ground as she looked back at him. Inhaling deeply, he visibly trembled. With a pointed finger, he indicated himself, then her.

MC blinked a couple of times, a span of silence stretching between them. The dragon frowned reiterating the gesture, jabbing his finger into his chest before carefully pointing at her.

“I don’t get it… You…. and me?” She gestured to herself and then to him.

The dragon's gaze intensified. He grasped her pants and, aided by his claws and strength, ripped the fabric away.

“Hey! Those were my only decent pair! Oh, Shit!”

His mouth was on her cunt, a long tongue licking a stripe the entire length from her clit to her ass.

“Oh…” Understanding struck her like lighting. “Oh no… we can’t. I-”

His hands carefully parted her cheeks as his tongue delved between her folds.

“Holy hell… what…. is happening? Do you want a …hook-up? Is that it?” A yelp escaped her as his tongue circled her opening.

She wondered whether she should allow him to have his way, let him satisfy his desires. Maybe, when he was done, he will leave her here and fly back to whatever scorched patch of earth he came from and she can find her group again.

“Fine…” The word was more of a moan. She bit her lip to stifle any sounds.

The cool breeze sent a shiver down her legs as he abandoned it to point at himself again.

“Yes, yes! Go ahead.” She indicated, pointing at herself and then at him.

His brows shot up and his eyes sparkled. An actual smile graced his lips, and he appeared... quite attractive.

“Let's get this over with, yeah?” She exhaled, her body scraping the ground as he removed the remains of her torn clothes.

He let out a low growl and placed his mouth back on her center. Years had passed since she last experienced the pleasurable touch of a man. A slap or a punch during a resource battle? Sure. But nothing that sent delightful shivers up her spine and caused her eyes to roll back.

“Damn…” She huffed, stirring up dust that settled on her face. She attempted to brush it away with her hand but was caught off balance when he spread her legs further.

She thought of the cities and entire valleys that had been decimated by hoards of dragons and their molten flames. Her own town had been among the first to fall victim to the invaders, forcing her and her family to become refugees, perpetually fleeing in search of survival.

She squeezed her eyes, feeling like a traitor as the very same enemy licked up and down the entire length of her pussy. Damn… being a traitor felt incredible. Of course, she was only doing this to create an opportunity to escape once he was finished... yeah... that was the plan.

His hands gripped her thighs and he pulled her legs apart. He purred against her slick cunt, vibrations making her squirm. How long was he going to do this for? This was looking less and less like a quick fuck and more like he was attempting to genuinely pleasure her.

“You can get on with it… you know.” She muttered, digging her nails into the forest floor. Predictably, he paid no attention to her words. After all, he hadn't uttered a single syllable, only making moans and groans of pleasure with his mouth.

His long tongue slid inside her entrance, the thick muscle stretching her out. She moaned and so did he, the vibration making her legs quake. His sounds of pleasure caught her off guard. Pulling her head back, she watched his red waves catch the sunlight as he buried his face between her legs. She squinted against the sun's brightness, then shifted her gaze back to the dim expanse of the forest ahead.

It was maddening how pleasurable it all felt. She let out a soft whimper, her cheek pressed against the ground while his groans reverberated through her, setting her body on edge.

“No one is going to believe this…” She whispered to herself. Her legs were trembling and she felt the orgasm on the horizon. “Fuck…”

His tongue moved dangerously slow, swirling around her sensitive clit. His thumbs dug into her skin, holding her core open obscenely for the taking.

She exhaled deeply, her muscles taut as the tension built.

"Alright!" she declared, pulling away before the inevitable.

The dragon growled and pulled her hips until his lips met her clit again. He sucked hard, running his tongue in circles, ravishing her with fierceness.

“Ah!” She moaned as the intensity of the orgasm throbbed in her core and spread over her body. “Oh fuck, oh fuck…” She whimpered, pushing herself back into his face, grinding eagerly.

The dragon hummed with satisfaction, licking lighter and lighter until the touch was barely there anymore.

Her legs quivered and her limbs shook as he released her, causing her to crumble onto the ground. Panting heavily, she tried to collect herself.

The dragon repositioned her hips, pulling her ass back into the air. Glancing back, she noticed the dilation of his pupils, his once-green eyes nearly engulfed by the expanses of black. He pushed his knuckle against her core, keeping his claw at bay as he pressed into the slick hole. She moaned, voice strained when his knuckle entered her.

His gaze narrowed, eyes locked on the wet mess in front of him. A blush colored her cheeks and she moved away again.

She began to turn around. “Okay okay…” She uttered. The dragon grabbed her hips, moving her back into place, on display for him. "Alright, fine... I'll stay like this," She huffed, rolling her eyes. "You're obsessed with this position…”

For the first time, the dragon shifter took himself in hand. He pumped his length keeping his eyes on her spread pussy.

Glancing over her shoulder, her eyes went wide. “You're not putting that in me, are you!?” She blurted out. He was massive, much larger than any ordinary human's cock should ever be. “It won't fit.” She added, starting to crawl away. “There’s no fucking way.”

He grabbed her hip with his free hand, holding her in place. He pressed his cock against her pussy, coating her slickness all over the tip.

“That’s not going to help… a miracle is needed.” She pleaded. He pushed the tip against her opening and started to push. “There’s no way!” She yelled “There’s no-” The tip popped inside and she squealed. Okay.. maybe there was a way.

The look of determination on his face told her he wasn’t stopping at just the tip. His teeth were clenched, both hands holding her hips in a bruising grip. He was moving slowly, carefully, as a sweat broke out on his brow.

“Please be careful! Oh, gods” She moaned, feeling the intense stretch of her insides. “I can’t…. I can't..” She whimpered. Yet, she could. Her pussy betrayed her, taking more and more of the dragon's cock until he was deep inside her. The uncomfortable stretch soon turned delicious and she cursed the sounds coming from her lips.

He groaned, thrusting into her until she took him as deep as she possibly could. Tears brimmed in her eyes. Her panting grew louder with each passing second. “It's too much… but…” She conceded, loosening her grip on the grass.

He wasn’t moving, and instead breathed deep, hands trembling as he held her hips.

She felt full, stuffed to the brim, unlike anything she’s ever experienced. She proceeded to press back into him, uttering soft whimpers. He gasped and folded over her, pressing his chest into her back. His arms were on either side of her head, caging her in. He placed tender kisses across her shoulder and neck. His body felt like a furnace. His skin held the warmth of a heating pad. As he folded over her, she began to sweat despite the cool spring air.

She took a deep inhale, her insides tremoring as her body acclimated to his size. He stayed seated deep in her as his lips moved down her neck and kissed just below her ear.

"I guess you could call this romantic," she attempted to joke. “But, we’re on the literal forest floor. Maybe if we were in a bed or-”

The sensation of sharp teeth grazing her skin sent a shiver through her. Her eyes widened when she felt them a second time. They were razor-sharp and far more pointy than his claws were. She held her breath, anticipating his next move. His kisses, coupled with the gentle brush of his teeth against her skin and his slow breath made it feel like he was working up to something.

Pain erupted from her throat in a piercing scream as his fangs penetrated her flesh. The noise sent nearby birds scattering, their wings fluttering and carrying them away from the scene. Betrayal washed over her and her initial instinct was to jerk away. He bit down harder and she stopped fighting, in fear it would cause more damage to her body. Tears clouded her eyes, and her cries reverberated through the surrounding trees.

He could easily tear out her throat or crush it in an instant. For the first time, limp and powerless between the jaws of a monster, MC understood how truly helpless she was.

A searing sensation like molten lava surged from his bite. She pleaded and begged for him to stop, but the scalding fluid seeped into her veins, causing her vision to blur. Her entire body became an inferno from within.

The burning sensation soon reached her heart. In her panic, the pounding muscle shot the molten lava out to her extremities. As it made its way up her neck, her lips tingled and burned. Her hands were engulfed, feeling as if she’d placed them atop a red-hot iron. A quivering whimper escaped her lips, betraying the fear that gripped her.

She groaned as the painful sensation started to dissipate. The heat felt comforting, almost natural, as it made its way to the tips of her toes.

All at once, his body stopped feeling like a furnace. He felt normal, almost cool even. Her sweat evaporated and the breeze in the forest became exceptionally refreshing. A deep inhale calmed her, and her flushed cheeks cooled.

Carefully, he unlatched his teeth. He tenderly licked at the spilled blood apologetically. A distant male voice reached her ears and she jerked her head to look. She wanted the help, sure, but what would a group of humans do in this situation? Also, her predicament was very… strange. The dragon’s cock was still seated inside her, she was naked, covered in dirt and the winged man licked at the wound he’d just given her.

She didn’t see anyone in the forest as she scanned the trees. Another male voice, much closer, caught her attention and she swiveled her head in all directions.

“Hello?!” She shouted.

Someone was near, and she wondered why the dragon man was not on alert. Was he not worried about them being found? Or did he simply not hear them? With the keen senses she knew the Dragons to have, the ladder sounded less plausible.

Heat rushed to the spot she was bitten and the blood stopped trickling. She tried to look, only seeing one of the punctured holes from her view. It was mending itself and at a remarkable rate. Her eyebrows rose in astonishment.

"What was that just now?" She gazed into his eyes. His pupils were slits again, but he blinked until they were circular black holes.

The man's voice came again and it was right behind her. She instinctively turned her head, finding no one there. Fantastic…, she must be losing her mind. Going insane seemed plausible, especially with the dragon shifter man in the picture. Could this all be a result of hitting her head? Perhaps it was just a dream... wasn't it?

The dragon shifter ran his finger through her hair and sighed happily. Her body had very well acclimated to the size of his cock by now. She felt a rush of endorphins race through her originating from her core.

“...like you were made for me.” A male voice echoed within her mind.

She slowly turned her gaze toward the shifter. “Did you just speak?”

“I have been.” His lips didn’t move, but she heard his voice clearly.

There was a long silence as she gawked at him. “H-how are you talking without… your mouth?”

He grinned and pressed a kiss to the spot he had bitten. ”The Draconian are a telepathic species.”

“What!?” Her mind raced. “Why couldn't I hear you before?”

His eyes shifted between hers, sporting an amused grin ”You are human.” The word 'human' wasn't exactly what he said. But the image linked to the word conveyed his meaning. ”Humans aren’t telepathic by nature.” He adds.

“Then how can I hear you now?” She murmured.

”I gave you my fires. You have been changed from the inside. Transformed.”

Her walls fluttered around the intrusion inside her. “Oh…” She was too stunned to speak, her mind struggling to grasp the reality of it all.

“What are you called?” He asked, lips brushing against the curve of her ear.

A hiss escapes her as his fangs graze her sensitive skin. A surge of fear courses through her, yet nothing comes of it.

“Why does it matter?” She says between clenched teeth. Her body trembled beneath his, ensnared like a bird in a cage by his powerful arms. Memories surface of her mother using her full name when she was in trouble, juxtaposed with the nickname her friends had coined – a name she much preferred.

”That’s a beautiful name.” His voice filled her head.

“What?! I didn’t say anything. I just… You can’t read my mind, can you?!” She eyed him in disbelief.

The dragon laughed, letting out a full-blown chuckle against her neck. ”I like how feisty you are. Yes, of course. You have my fires, I can read your mind.” He inhaled deeply against her neck. ”You smell fantastic… I could sense you from miles away.”

His words were accompanied by images that filled her mind of flowers and dewdrops on crisp green grass. Those weren’t her thoughts.

“Can… can I read yours too?”

He vocalized a hum and spoke in her head. ”Only if I let you.” He smirked, eyes half-lidded as his gaze moved over her facial features.

“How can I keep my thoughts to myself?!”

He smiled and finally pulled away. "I’ll teach you… maybe.”

“Maybe? Teach me now” She encouraged.

He laughed. ”I will teach you, in time.” He pledged, his hand gliding down her back in a comforting motion.

She was quickly growing accustomed to his voice resonating in her mind. She glanced behind her, capturing his smile illuminated by the sunlight streaming through the canopy. His fangs were only slightly longer than his regular teeth. Funny, they had felt much bigger when they pierced her skin.

He smiled even wider. ”You think I’m handsome?” His brows arched playfully.

She averted her gaze. “I’m not going to get used to the mindreading any time soon…” Thoughts of how the mind-reading would ruin her escape plans weighed heavily on her mind.

“Garreth.” His voice reverberated, drawing her away from her thoughts.

“What?” She scrunched her face.

”That is what I am called. Garreth.”

“Oh…” A tinge of remorse settled in for not asking.

”It’s all right.” His hands slid down her back, breath quickening. ”Are you ready now? You aren’t making distressed sounds anymore.” He pressed his hips forward against her ass, pushing his cock that much deeper.

"Damn it! I... Hold on!" She gasped, pressing her forehead against the ground. "Maybe I should turn around first? Lie on my back, perhaps? This position... it's hurting my knees."

Garreth narrowed his eyes. ”But this is how you mount a mate to claim them.” He said, tilting his head.

“A what!? I am not your, your mate!” She spat, attempting to pull away but failing as his hands tightened on her hips.

"You are. Your scent is perfect, just what I've been seeking all my life." The voice in her head took on a singsong tone. "And, you did agree."

“When!?” She asked, utterly flustered. A mental image flashed before her eyes. She saw herself, dirt-covered face, hair clinging to her skin, pointing at him and then to herself. “The pointing? That was… it..” Well damn, it was her telling him to just fuck her already. But she hadn't exactly signed up for being mates! “I didn’t want a full-blown mate! Just... I just thought.”

He sighed. ”I see what you thought. But, why would I want to do this…” He emphasized with a hard thrust. ”...with you only one time?”

She let out a soft whimper, her head spinning. “Okay, okay. …How long do ‘mates’ last?” She asked.

The dragon chuckled, leaning forward and trailing kisses down her spine while his hands moved up her stomach to cup her breasts. His fingers lightly caressed the soft skin, rubbing her nipples gently in small circles.

She pressed her forehead down to the ground, the scent of the earth filling her nose, and let out a long sigh. She just wished he'd started already. Her body was no longer throbbing at the intrusion and instead had prepared with extra lubricant for just the occasion.

”You’re so impatient.” His sensual voice echoed. ”But I'm ready to provide you with everything you desire, whenever you wish.”

With a firm grasp on her hips, he withdrew and thrust his cock into her.

“Ah! Oh.. my fucking gods…” Her moans vibrated into the earth.

”I love the noises you make with your mouth.” His voice sounded even but his vocal breaths told another story. He panted, pumping into her, filling her up over and over.

”Feels so good… I’m so full.” She thought in her mind. She sensed the words extending, stretching like tendrils in the void until she visualized Garreth’s face. She recognized the instant the words reached him, slotting into his mind like two puzzle pieces finally clicking together.

He moaned, thrusts getting sloppy the faster he went. His red wings beat, creating a gust of wind that tousled her hair around her face.

An image of flying took shape in her thoughts. Lush hills filled with green trees, mist filling the canopy and rising toward the morning sun. Soaring and the rush of diving toward the earth, catching oneself on the wind with outstretched wings filled her mind. With the rush coming from these visuals he was sending her, she knew he was close to release.

"You're too perfect.” His words touched her mind.

“Can we try the other position? Please. As much as I’m enjoying this…” She asked, knees pressing hard against the ground. “If you hate it, we can change back.” She sent him a vision of her on her back and him close enough to kiss her.

He said something explicit in his head she couldn't attach to an English word. He pulled out, slowly, carefully.

”Show me.” He breathed heavily, waving his hand and gesturing for her to roll over. ”I will entertain my mate’s request” He added with a proud smile.

She did, rolling until her back met the ground, feeling the tickle of grass and crushed wildflowers against her skin. She adjusted until her feet were pressing down, legs spread in front of him. “Okay, now… do it.” She urged, red coloring her cheeks.

He gazed at her with wonder. An image of herself flooded her mind. Seeing her own reflection through his eyes was otherworldly. It was as if he had a lens that made her look ethereal, illuminated by the sunlight, her hair cascading behind her. The line between his thoughts and hers blurred, and she marveled at how she appeared. She had never considered herself more than ordinary, yet in this vision, she appeared divine, almost like a goddess.

He carefully grabbed her thighs, lifting her legs off the ground as he moved closer to her. His gaze fixed on her with a sense of wonder, like a starstruck fan. He moved slowly, deliberately, lining his cock up with her entrance once more.

”Radiant, beautiful, gorgeous.” His thoughts enveloped her consciousness, painting a vivid portrait of admiration, sliding back inside her with minimal effort. "All mine”

She closed her eyes, his cock sliding and pushing against all the right spots. She tilted her head back and slid her hands up his chest, loving the way he eagerly leaned into her touch.

”I like this position.” He thought. ”I like the human way.”

She let out a sigh, watching his face drawing nearer to hers. "Kiss me," she whispered. His smile wavered, and he blinked in surprise. When he didn't respond she asked, "What? Draconians don't kiss?"

She projected an image into his mind of two people locked in a passionate kiss, followed by an image of him leaning down and meeting her lips. He blinked a few times and followed her vision, leaning down until their lips met. His movements were somewhat rigid and awkward.

She snickered, arms encircling his neck. "I suppose not. Here," she whispered, pressing her lips against his and repeating the gesture. He drank in the sensations and swiftly reciprocated the kiss. When her tongue ventured between his lips, he drew back, his gaze locked onto her mouth.

"Too much?" she inquired, concern filling her mind. She worried she’d offended him in some way.

"Not at all." He shook his head, drawing a deep breath. "I was surprised.”

She grinned up at him. “Want to try again?”

He nodded, his hand cradling her face, his gaze focused on her lips. As their mouths met, he immediately slid his tongue into her mouth. He rolled his hips, sliding deep, and pulling moans from her.

She kissed him back passionately, fingers digging into his hair. He braced himself above her, his claws sinking into the soil. He thrust faster, rocking her entire body with the movement.

As his kisses became sloppy, their teeth collided, and she felt the sharpness of his fangs. She broke the kiss, her heart racing. But he lunged forward again, his lips meeting hers with urgency.

"I won't hurt you.” His reassurance echoed in her mind.

Using her mental voice since his lips were on hers, she responded with a mental image of the bite mark and the words ”You already did!”

”I had to do that, so you could survive this claiming.”

"What!" She pulled back from the kiss, breathlessly. "What does that mean? What are you saying?" She asked him to explain, but he simply smiled.

”You needed to be the same body temperature as me, otherwise… I'd scorch you.” Lines creased his forehead. ”I don’t want my mate to die.”

“Mate… I- Okay we will circle back to that. What would cause me to get scorched?” She kept her hands on his shoulders, holding his kiss at bay.

”My body, my fluids… Your body is incompatible with me unless we share my fires.”

“Fires? Was that what was in the bite you gave me? I have so many questions…”

He nuzzled her face, inhaling deeply. "We have all the time in the world. I'll happily answer your questions day and night. I promise. But for now…” He punctuated his statement with a thrust of his hips.

She groaned and nodded. "Fine, but I want answers. All of them. Deal?"

”Absolutely, deal” His thoughts brimmed with amusement aimed at her. ”After.”

Shaking her head, she draped her arm over her eyes as he quickened his pace. He breathed heavily, peeling himself from her body and sitting back on his bent legs. He held her legs up, pushing his torso against her thighs.

”Is this good?’ He asked, his gaze scanning her face.

She peeked from under her arm. "Yes... Oh, yes... It's amazing." she whimpered.

Her legs trembled as he held them tight. She sucked in air through her teeth, hissing as he hit her in all the right spots to make her see stars. The slick wet sounds filled the air mixing with his low grunts. Every thrust, every pump pushed her body with such intensity that she felt like a ragdoll.

“So good…” Her feet dangled in the air while he supported her legs. Her stomach muscles tightened, and she reached out, clutching his arm. Her nails dug in, and despite his gentle humanoid exterior, she discovered his skin was thick and impenetrable.

"I’m going to fill you up.” The mind speak drifted into her head. She was dazed, barely registering what he said. Her mind was elsewhere as his cock pounded her senselessly.

“Close- I’m… Ah!” She moaned, core muscles flexing as her cunt throbbed.

”Yes.” The voice in her head encouraged. He moaned, pumping faster while the orgasm had her gushing out onto the forest floor.

“Holy shit!” She exclaimed, locking eyes with him in a heated exchange. His eyes were mesmerizing, like precious gemstones reflecting the purest hues of an emerald.

”You look so beautiful under me.” He said affectionately, fingers pressing into her thigh, and sharp nails scraping lines on her skin. "You're so pretty. I’ll never get tired of looking at you.” He praised.

She wasn't attempting to escape out of fear anymore. She pulled away because he was buried so deeply within her, and her inner walls felt fatigued and overstimulated. “It’s too much!” She groaned, her entire body trembling like a leaf. "Oh my..."

”I’m close, please-” He begged. ”I’m so close” He kept the same intense rhythm, lowering her legs. He leaned over her form, his arms bracing on the ground on either side of her torso. His face hovered just inches from hers.

She stopped her escape and instead, let the overstimulation become her. Gasps and grunts passed between them, his face close enough to kiss if he wasn’t fucking her so fervently. Her eyes pinched shut as a second, weaker, orgasm pulsed in her core. She whimpered, almost crying as the friction became too much. If he hadn't wrapped her in his arms, the force of his hips would have pushed her away.

Garreth praised her for keeping up with him, whispering sweet words into her thoughts. His teeth gently grazed her neck, and his tongue traced along her skin. With a single flap of his wings, a gust of wind swirled around them.

Garreth then thrust to the hilt, his body stilling. He held his breath for a moment, then his cock throbbed inside her. A searing heat filled her deep and she pinched her eyes closed, teeth gritting.

She gasped as the sensation rippled through her, her fingers digging into his back, cautious of where his wings were. She desperately pulled him closer, longing for the space between their bodies to disappear. His forehead pressed against her cheek, muscles twitching as his searing cum filled her to the brim, seeping out, and dripping onto the forest floor. He panted, arms holding her to his chest as he breathed through the last remaining throws of his orgasm.

“Garreth,” She moaned. No matter how she tried to relax, her muscles were forced to their limit with him still inside her. Her ears rang as her heart pounded in her skull.

He placed a trembling hand on her lower abdomen and pressed down. She gasped, feeling just how deep inside her he was. A whimper escaped her when he pressed again.

"You're mine.” He murmured against her ear. "I’m yours. And nothing-” He growled ”...will ever come between us.”

She cried out when he removed himself from her body. She choked on a sob, feeling her core muscles finally relax. Her thighs were covered in slickness from their combined fluids.

"You're so beautiful…” He claimed her lips in a passionate kiss.

She kissed him back, sounds of pleasure still slipping passed her lips. His strong hands cradled her face as his tongue dipped into her mouth.

“Mm, wow…” She sighed, finally catching her breath.

Their mouths met with a fierce hunger, lips pressing hard, vanishing the air from her lungs.

His hands moved all over her body, cupping her breasts with his massive palms. His thumbs ran over her nipples and she arched into his touch.

“I’m really sensitive right now.” she whimpered, placing a few soft kisses on his lips. His stamina was truly remarkable.

He smiled. "I understand.” He trailed kisses down her neck to her collarbone. "I did that to you.” He stated proudly.

"Yes, you certainly did," She agreed breathlessly.

”Time to head home soon.” He said, planting one final kiss on her cheek before moving his head between her legs in a swift motion.

“What? Home? What do you mea-!”

His tongue ran down her slit, gathering their mixed fluids. He licked and sucked between her folds, cleaning up the mess he’d made. He hummed, burying his face as close as he possibly could.

“What are you doing!?” She gasped, a moan escaping from her increasingly raspy voice.

”Cleaning you up so I can take you home.” He assured her in his mind, tongue moving up and down her wet thighs. It was a mix of ticklishness and sinful pleasure. She indulged in both, relaxing back on the soft grass.

He focused on her entrance next, moaning into her cunt, devouring her essence. She could sense his immense pleasure from the delightful thoughts that floated through his mind. His tongue repeatedly brushed against her clit and she shuddered.

Her exhausted stomach muscle contracted, and she cried out, “Okay! I’m spent! I can’t… not another one. Please!” Her hoarse voice carried a pleading tone as she pushed on his red waves, trying to move him away from her center.

He smirked, savoring one final inhale before leaning back and respecting her wish. His wings folded against his back as he stretched his arms upward and to the side.

She shut her eyes, taking deep breaths to regain her composure. Her legs closed, and she could already feel the onset of soreness in her muscles.

Garreth reclined next to her in the grass, a contented smile on his face. "You're the most beautiful mate.”

“We’re going to need to have a long conversation about that.” She remarked,

Garreth chuckled and effortlessly pulled her onto his chest as if she weighed nothing. He brushed hair away from her face, allowing her to nestle into his larger frame.

Taking a deep breath and then exhaling slowly, her eyes fluttered shut, exhaustion taking over. “Do you ever use your voice to speak?” She asked, unintentionally yawning in his face. He appeared unfazed by her less-than-polite action.

She watched him as the silence stretched. His eyes squinted like he was about to sneeze before his lips formed the sound “Ssur,” He looked pleased with himself, followed by light laughter.

“That wasn’t a word.” She struggled to hold back a laugh.

”But I spoke it with my mouth.”

“Do you even speak any language?” She asked.

"I didn't know human mates had so many questions. I will be happy to answer them all but I can’t all at once.” He stretched, keeping her nestled against his chest. "I love how curious you are. You were most definitely made for me.”

“But you will answer them eventually, right?”

”Of course,”

“Do you know anyone else with a human… well, 'mate'?”

Garreth pat her back with a small smile. “That is another question.”

Amused, she chuckled. “Oh, sorry. Okay, I’ll zip it for now. I promise. I need some rest, now…”

”First, home, then rest and cuddles, and after that, I'll satisfy your curiosity.”

“Where is-” She paused. “Never mind... Another question…”

”This is our home.” He projected images into her mind— a mountainside with a cavernous opening in its flank.

“That's… high.” She gazed up at the sky, the images from her mind blending with the real world.

”Those humans you were with, they abandoned you.” His words were laced with annoyance. "I will not do that. I won’t leave you here alone. Especially since you don't have claws to defend yourself.”

“How did you know there were other people?” She asked curiously.

”I could smell them nearby when I found you.”

Her face scrunched in annoyance. They were close by, after all, just hiding like cowards and leaving her to die. She honestly couldn’t blame them, unsure of what she would have done in that same situation.

"I promise to take care of you.” His fingers tenderly followed the curve of her jawline. "I will provide you with anything you could possibly need. And, I will strive to give you everything you want.”

Through their mental bond, she believed every word he said. He forged his fires in her veins, binding them mentally, emotionally, and physically. Now, their connection was complete, making her just as much his as he was hers.

With care, Garreth helped her sit up. He followed suit, rising to his feet. "We both need to freshen up and have a warm meal.” He brushed dirt off himself.

The thought of food made her stomach rumble. “I’m starving…” She didn’t know the last time she had a proper meal.

His smile widened. "I know... I've seen your thoughts full of bread and cheeses.” He extended a hand to help her stand.

“My clothes…” She looked around at the tattered cloth. “They’re… unsalvageable.”

Garreth furrowed his brow. "I will get you more.” He assured. "Now, I must transform to take us back. Will you be comfortable riding in my hand?”

She looked down at his humanoid hand with uncertainty. “Um…”

Garreth's laughter resonated in his chest. ”My Draconian hand is much larger. You will fit in the palm of it. Don’t worry. Can I shift now? Will you be okay?” He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, gaze on hers.

She could feel his worry clouding her mind. There had been a load of anxiety the last time she saw his dragon form.

She nodded finally. "Yes. I’m ready.”

Garreth took several steps back, pupils changing to slits before his skin erupted into gleaming garnet scales. With a resounding roar, his body expanded, reshaping itself into the colossal dragon that had previously frightened her.

”You're safe.” He reassured her mentally. "It's still me.” He took one large step toward her, the ground rumbling with the weight of his limbs.

She willed herself to stand her ground, reminding herself that this was Garreth—the man, or rather dragon, who had claimed her, who had promised protection and care.

Garreth extended one massive, claw-tipped hand, waiting patiently. His breathing was much louder, punctuated by intermittent gruff sounds.

Summoning her courage, she stepped forward, hand gliding over thick red scales until she nestled within his palm. He patiently waited for her to find a good position, securing herself in place by clasping onto one of his massive digits.

Garreth gradually closed his fingers, cradling her against his chest as though holding a precious jewel.

"Hold on tight. I’ve got you, okay?”

"Okay.” Poking her head out of his hand, she watched as he limped on three limbs to the clearing.

As the dragon prepared for flight, his wings unfurled with a sound like distant thunder. Garreth’s wings stretched out with an astonishing span, each membranous expanse flexing as he eyed the sky. With a powerful thrust, he launched himself into an open expanse. Each mighty stroke of his wings sent shockwaves through the air, leaving behind a whirlwind that ruffled the trees. She held onto his digit, feeling safe and tucked away against his hard chest.

He broke through the canopy, leaving the spot where they met behind. In flight, his wings pumped fiercely, propelling them forward. The wind and his wings were a harmonious bond between raw strength and the sky, a union that was nothing short of breathtaking. He adjusted fluidly, tilting to catch currents and riding the winds effortlessly. His body cast a massive shadow on the ground below.

As she peaked out from under his claws, she looked down and the open air made her stomach drop. She gripped his fingers tightly, a chill rushing through her that had nothing to do with the wind whipping past. He sent her images of his home again, a cozy cavern in the mountain. She saw a small room with a large bed made out of piles and piles of blankets, a desk with books and quills, and a bookshelf stuff with more trinkets than books.

The wind roared in her ears, drowning out all other sounds. Pressed against his chest, she could feel the dragon's muscles working in rhythmic harmony, each beat of his wings translating into a forward surge, propelling them higher and higher. The landscape rolled and undulated beneath them, a living canvas painted with forests, rivers, and mountains.

With every powerful stroke of the dragon's wings, she felt weightless, suspended between earth and sky. It was as if gravity itself had loosened its grip. Among all these things was the undeniable sense of freedom.

And then, gazing into the infinite horizon, she felt a sense of unity with the dragon, with Garreth— in addition to the bond they already forged. She marveled at the world from a perspective reserved for the extraordinary, recognizing that this was a moment that would forever etch itself into her mind.

Thank you for reading!

I want to say this is the longest fic I have ever written in all my years in various fandoms. I am shocked it came out this massive, but it is fitting given the content lol.

Drop a comment and let me know what you think! I’d love to hear your thoughts on this labor of love.

Masterlist is in my bio. || Cross-posted on Ao3

#garreth weasley #weasley wednesday #garreth weasley x mc #hogwarts legacy

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fanfin-glutton · 9 months

Text

Classroom mishap

Garreth Weasley x (OC) Florence Inkwood

Bonus:

The aftermath

So I drew that colored page first, and thought to myself “why not make it into a comic?”

As you can tell, Florence allowed her intrusive thoughts to win. She honestly can’t flirt for the life of her, but she has her moments here and there.

(Also why are side profiles so freaking hard 😭😭 Garreths eye kept giving me a hard time)

This is my first contribution to Weasley Wednesday, by the grace of Merlin’s beard I was barely able to put this semi-half assed comic together. So I hope you guys enjoy.

Have a wonder Weasley Wednesday 🫶

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy oc #hogwarts legacy garreth #garreth weasley #natsai onai #poppy sweeting #leander prewett #hogwarts oc #weasley wednesday #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #professor fig

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radical-ghostface · 8 months

Text

Sebastian: It's bollocks, Ominis! It's your brand of bollocks from first to last.

Ominis: No, you can't ever see the big picture. You can't see any picture! And IM the blind one!

Sebastian: I am talking about something primal. Right? Savagery. Brutal animal instinct.

Ominis: And that wins out every time with you. You know, the human race has evolved, Sebastian!

Sebastian: Oh, into a bunch of namby-pamby, self-analyzing wankers who could never hope to...

Ominis: We're bigger. We're smarter. Plus, there's a thing called teamwork, not to mention the superstitious terror of your pure aggressors!

Sebastian: You just want it to be the way you want it to be.

Ominis: It's not about what I want!

MC: Sorry. Is this something we should all be discussing?

Ominis: No.

MC: It just sounds a little serious.

Ominis: It was mostly... theoretical. We...

Sebastian: We were just working out a - Look, if cavemen and astronauts got into a fight, who would win?

MC: Ah. You've been yelling at each other for 40 minutes about this.

[pause]

Garreth: Do the astronauts have weapons?

Sebastian and, Ominis: *in unison* No.

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shadesofgaunt · 7 months

Text

Garreth in the Gryffindor common room at night

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts #garreth weasley #hogwarts legacy screenshots #weasley wednesday

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wedonthaveawhile · 1 month

Text

Baby Garreth, and where to find him.

Garreth Weasley x MC

Inspired by her desire to see mermaids, Garreth brews his Herbology partner a potion as a gesture of his affection. Cue the inevitable chaos and peril.

AO3 // Word count: 4.4k

Can be a standalone fic or read as a prequel to Crimson and Clover

Had Garreth been asked for his opinion on the Heroine of Hogwarts a few months back, you likely would have been treated to such eloquent critiquing as: "Bit of a teacher's pet."

There was never any intention to offend; tactful words simply weren't his forte—as proven by the way he inadvertently voiced this opinion directly to her face on the day they were assigned as Herbology partners.

He was only teasing, possibly with an underlying motive of reverse psychology. He had felt her eyes drilling into him while his own ogled the snakeweed—a rare ingredient, almost impossible to obtain by non-thievery means. He thought implying his witness was a snitch might prompt her to look the other way to prove him wrong.

When he tried to execute his nifty little scheme: Pocketing the goods while hoping fifteen students and a professor weren't looking (a tactic that boasted a commendable twenty-three-percent success rate), the snakeweed had vanished—as had his partner.

A middle finger if he'd ever seen one.

Her assault on his pride. Her flawless execution of theft. Her exemplary eye for valuable plunder—It was one step shy of a strip tease, and Garreth had been chasing her tail ever since.

These fresh circumstances might offer insight into why he was currently trudging through ankle-deep mud on yet another lap of the kneazle pen.

His timing had been impeccable—A passing stroll coinciding perfectly with the end of her Beast's class, setting the stage for a spontaneous walk to Herbology together.

Professor Cockblock must have had some trivial errand to palm off to a trustworthy student and was holding back the obvious choice for a briefing.

Just because Garreth had formed new opinions didn't mean he'd relinquished the old ones. Teacher's pet was, unfortunately, terminal.

At long last, the tardy witch bounded down the steps of the hut. Considering Garreth's feet were now encased in a three-inch layer of sludge, he was surprisingly light on them. She remained oblivious to him sauntering up behind her until his shoulder met hers in a clumsy bump.

He grinned as she shot three inches skyward with a hand clutched to her chest. The profanity-laden gasp that followed was the cherry on top.

How she wasn't routinely dismembered during her trips into the forbidden forest was nothing short of a miracle.

"Surprise."

She branded him a twat, delivering a retaliatory shoulder-bump with a slight more force than necessary. "What are you doing lurking around out here?"

"Quidditch practice wrapped up early, so I figured I'd take a stroll."

"A gorgeous morning for it," she chirped as drizzle splattered their faces.

"Caught sight of my favourite botanist and thought I'd put her survival instincts to the test."

"Results?"

"Atrocious."

"Blame it on my hunger," she sighed, booting a pebble in frustration. "Do you think we have time for a detour to the kitchen? I'm starving."

Garreth couldn't relate; he was stuffed to the brim with sweeties. The head of Gryffindor always whipped up a batch of red velvet cookies for their Quidditch meetings—something to do with flying the house colours and fostering team unity. A cloying sentiment, but if they earned him brownie points, who was he to complain?

Quite the wingman was Aunt Matilda.

"Fear not, sunshine. I've got you covered," he declared, fishing around in his pocket and producing a stack of the stolen treats.

"Oh, you do come with perks, Weasley."

"In Garreth, we trust."

The primary ingredient of his perks was fluff from his pocket lining, but she graciously overlooked that detail.

"How did the meeting go?"

"Eh, alright," he shrugged as he shouldered open the door and used a drying charm to restore his sodden hair to its usual wayward refinement. "Team building can only get us so far when the entire Slytherin team is equipped with the latest Nimbus."

Her proceeding moan could have been interpreted as one of sympathy or indulgence as she took a mouthful of sickly scarlet sustenance. "You could shave off your mane; you'll be more aerodynamic."

"Genius. I happen to be a dab hand at hairless potions, ask Leander."

Her ensuing sideways glance was a sly one. If Garreth were a presumptuous man, he might have thought she was checking out the ginger vista.

"Don't, though," was her conclusion.

"But I want to be a speedy boy."

"On your hair be it. I hope there's a nice-shaped cranium underneath all that," she said with a swooping gesture that implied his hair was three-feet wide.

"And if there isn't? How do I make egg-head look good?"

"Ask Leander."

Garreth glanced at her with a grimace of guilt. "He did not make it look good. Poppy mistook him for a golden snidget on three separate occasions. And a testicle on one."

His face lit up as he bathed in the golden glow of her laughter.

Professor Garlick was palpating leaves as they descended into the greenhouse—regaling her students on the metamorphosis of herbage as the wind slammed against the windows and sent the trailing plants into a wild frenzy.

They bypassed the lecture and gathered the equipment to carry out their assignment. Garreth watched the analytical projection suspended over the plant pot twinkle in his partner's eyes as she assessed the growth since its last inspection.

She was a vision.

An english rose.

Worthy of a Chocolate Frog Card.

Probably already on one.

He ought to go find it.

He unwillingly shifted his attention downward when asked his opinion on its condition.

"Beauty in its purest form," he declared as he twiddled a leaf between his fingers, though the sentiment wasn't directed at the foliage.

"Do you think?"

"The crème de la crème of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.”

"I didn't know you were so fond of mandrakes."

"Mm-hmm, marriage material if you ask me."

He went too far with that one, and she shot him a strange look, "Is that a joke?"

"Dead serious, sweetheart."

Her cheeks flushed at his honeyed words, and she hid it by bobbing under the desk to fetch the cotton balls.

"Here," she declared to the underside of the table. "You'll need some ear protection; we need to repot your wife."

"Saucy. We've been looking for a third."

She muttered a phrase popular among the muggle-born students—something about God giving her strength.

Garreth dismissed it as a term of endearment.

Having successfully ploughed his wife, the witch bent over the worktop to scribble down some notes for their theory assignment. As luck would have it, Garreth found himself conveniently positioned behind her. In a moment of whimsy, he indulged in a passing fantasy wherein the screaming atop the bench wasn't solely the mandrakes' doing. Their fictitious romp was cut short when she turned to Garreth with an expression implying he had just been posed a question.

They locked eyes for a transient moment.

"Hello."

"What can be brewed with mandrakes?" She repeated, fluttering the quill over the title of her notes: Potions.

The blood ascended back to Garreth's brain, which he used to fuel a monologue. He began with healing elixirs, then progressed to combative and defensive tonics. She was very impressed by his knowledge of the animagus potion, so only after he'd soaked up every drop of attention from that did he segue into miscellaneous potions…

"Younger or older?"

Garreth halted his steady stream of words. "Come again?"

"You said age potions. Is that for becoming younger or older?"

"Both."

"Got it," she transcribed the information onto the last remaining sliver of parchment before duplicating the notes and handing him a copy. "That should be enough for now."

"What would be your preference?" Garreth asked as he scanned her hasty summary. “If you had an ageing potion, would you go older or younger?"

"Younger." Her reply was instantaneous. "I'd sign up for first-year classes. Did you hear they get a class trip into Black Lake now that Nerida Roberts has made peace with the mermaids?"

"I heard the rumours, not the confirmation that they're true."

"Well, Mr. Moon has been preparing the boats for their afternoon class, so it's likely."

"Criminal. Why do the ankle-biters get to go?"

"The younger the human, the less likely they are to get eaten." She looked crestfallen at having involuntarily aged into mermaid fodder. "I'd do anything to see one in the flesh."

Anything?

Garreth tucked that juicy little nugget of information into the corner of his brain for future reference.

As he began to tidy up their tools, he hesitated as he reached for the mandrake. Since their last class, it had flourished quite spectacularly. Ripe leaves were unfurling, and fresh sprouts were vying for their place in the renewed soil.

The potions that could be concocted with all this deliciousness.

It made Garreth's thumbs itch.

He leaned on his forearms, knocking an elbow against his partner in herbology/crime. "Might I trouble you for a favour?"

"Another heist?"

"You know how it is."

"You still owe me for the last one."

"What's your price, sunshine?"

After a moment of consideration, she swiped her quill's bristles against his jaw and told him: "Surprise me."

Garreth's heart skipped a beat, then kicked up again at an alarming rate.

Fucking titillating.

"I'll wrangle you a mermaid," he stated succinctly, embodying the charismatic gentleman he was known to be. His words absolutely did not stumble out in a jumbled lump.

"Ambitious."

"And, on second thought, kind of inconvenient," he added, mulling over the logistical implications of housing a mermaid. "Fine, I'll wrangle you a glimpse of a mermaid."

"Still ambitious; how do you plan to pull that off?"

"I have my ways," he said, tapping his nose. "Meet me in the boathouse after lunch?"

She narrowed her eyes, scouring his features for any trace of dubious intentions. The boathouse was a notorious hook-up spot and had been the subject of a few too many jokes (that perhaps weren't entirely jokes) suggesting they relocate their study sessions there.

He kept quiet and tried to look like he wasn't harbouring several ulterior motives. Her curiosity evidently outweighed her better judgment, because she agreed.

With their tasks completed, the distraction sprang over to Garlick, loudly inquiring about the "breathtaking" new assortment of plant life on the opposite side of the greenhouse.

Garreth carried their mandrake over to the shelves.

In a moment of clumsy misfortune, he fumbled with the pot, inadvertently grabbing the plant by its sprouts and plucking off several leaves in the process.

In sheer happenstance, these fallen leaves found their way into his cloak pocket.

Completely unaware of the faux pas, Garreth quickly skedaddled out of the classroom.

The potion prodigy dropped a pilfered leaf into a steaming cauldron. It belched up a scalding mist of fuchsia fog, and Garreth ducked to avoid it with a triumphant grin. As the potion simmered, he envisioned what tantalising rewards awaited him for bringing her dreams to fruition.

It was an odd sensation—having impure thoughts whilst mashing troll bogeys into a fine paste.

Their fictitious romp was cut short once more, this time by the intrusion of an abnormally long nose topped with impeccable hair.

"Hello, Prewett."

Leander sidled up to the desk, two ice-cold butterbeers floating behind him. "Have you been here all morning? I thought you were joining us in Hogsmeade."

"An opportunity arose."

Leander looked a combination of curious and suspicious as he surveyed the array of grimy receptacles. He kept himself and his hair at a safe distance. "What's going on?"

"Just brewing a gift for someone."

"Who?"

"Someone."

Leander didn't waste time guessing; he jumped straight to the correct conclusion and informed Garreth that he was a soppy bastard. Garreth didn’t dispute it; she occupied his mind far more than any previous passing fancies.

Turning the notebook around, Leander scanned the nearly indecipherable process for age potions. "How far back does she want to turn the clock?"

"Seven years, give or take," Garreth replied, watching his friend sniff a jug of a failed experiment. “I overshot it with that batch. Best not ingest it; you might turn into a sperm."

Leander tossed the potion back onto the table and scrubbed his unsullied hands on his robes. "Are you sure about this? Sallow will have your head if you turn the heroine of Hogwarts into seminal fluid. Then Gaunt will harvest your functional eyes."

Garreth waved those minor concerns away, his focus honing in on the most critical point. "Don't call her that; she hates it."

"She'd also hate being jizz."

"Trust me, it's going to be a wild success. I have a secret ingredient," Garreth declared, jabbing a bogey-stained thumb to his chest.

"Heart?" Leander asked with a stifled sound of disgust.

"No, me. Garreth Weasley. Most of what I do results in the desired outcome, one way or another."

"Just with several explosions along the way."

"It's called pizazz, Prewett.”

"Well, I can't say I didn't try. I'm leaving before I'm implicated." Leander plucked one of the butterbeers out of the air and slid it across the table. "Best of luck, Weasel."

"Cheers, buddy. For the beverage and soon-to-be-forgotten advice," Garreth raised the drink to his lips and chugged half. Appeasing ladies was thirsty work, and he had begun to resemble one of the sweaty puddles forming on the counter.

He lowered the cup and was met with Leander's horrified visage.

"What…" Garreth's lips curled in disgust; he smacked them together in response to the cataclysmically putrid aftertaste. Had Leander fermented the beer in his arsehole? Bloody hell, it was foul. He opened his mouth to demand answers, but it remained agape as the tabletop began to rise.

Garreth watched in dubious disbelief as his full and frothy butterbeer, alongside a half-empty beaker of defective potion, ascended past him.

Oh shit...

No matter how much Garreth thrashed, pushed, and grabbed at the thick blankets swaddling him, he seemed to be making no progress towards freedom.

A refreshing gust of fresh air greeted his face as someone whisked the material away from it, and his vision adjusted to the gangly thing staring down at him. Bony hands were clamped over its mouth, muffling its irritating bleating, save for one vaguely familiar sound that slipped through the cracks.

"Weasley?"

Garreth had no clue what it meant, nor was he really listening.

His attention had been lured upwards to something familiar and profoundly comforting. It called to mind dreamy memories of tight cuddles and the aroma of freshly baked cookies. With his chubby arms eagerly extended, Garreth reached towards the glossy mass of ginger hair.

"Mama."

Mum's immediate response was a stiff: "No."

She lifted Garreth's arm and began probing the joints while letting out a string of confounded noises: "Well, at least you're not a sperm. How old are you?"

Ah, Garreth knew this trick well. He withdrew his fingers from his dribbling mouth and proudly brandished the moist digits—quantity unknown.

"No, you look younger than four…"

Garreth was actually trying to display eighteen, but that was by the by, as his stomach interrupted the goings-on with a grumble of protest.

Some absolute cretin had failed to provide him with sustenance.

"Don't you dare…," said mum.

Garreth sucked in a deep lungful of air, mustering every wisp of it to articulate his plea: "Mother, please. I'm famished." Except it took the form of a skull-splitting scream.

He cracked open an eye in hopeful anticipation of a succulent meal being bequeathed to him to find a stick hovering an inch from his face.

It looked delectable—a gourmet feast of the highest quality.

He took a hearty bite but was promptly shoved away by Mum. She wiped the resultant drool off on Garreth's hair, which felt uncalled for, before making a noise that shrunk his blanket into clothes befitting his podgy form. He was then scooped up haphazardly, his body contorting at a crooked angle as Mum's lanky fingers awkwardly gripped his limbs.

Her attempts to keep him upright were clumsy and uncoordinated as if she'd never held a child before. Something seemed fishy, but before he could assign any brainpower to the feeling, they were transported through a doorway and absorbed into a bustling crowd.

What were all these people doing in Garreth's house?

He caught snippets of his name, each time prefaced by words beyond his current comprehension like: "Is that..." and "What the fuck have you done..."

A few intruders waved, and Garreth returned the gesture despite Mum's increasingly laborious efforts to prevent him from tumbling to the ground.

Garreth realised it had been some time since he travelled by way of arms, and decided then that he must get back into it.

And so, after that fine voyage (during which he only vomited twice), they landed in a lush field. Overhead, people dressed in vivid green costumes whizzed around on brooms, overseen by a man to whom Garreth was unceremoniously presented.

The man's piercing eyes roved over Garreth's fiery red hair, then lifted to Mum's.

"Prewett, is this your foetus?"

Mum looked freshly displeased and dumped Garreth into the man's much sturdier arms.

A dark line was carved across his eye; it piqued Garreth's innocent curiosity. He reached out to touch it gently, but his new-fangled toddler strength drove his tiny fist to inadvertently deliver a solid punch to the man's nose. Garreth instinctively grasped out as he teetered on the recoil, knotting his hands in the man's thick brown hair.

It looked delectable—a gourmet feast of the highest quality.

Garreth tried to indulge in a munch, but his efforts were met with resistance as his fingers and mouth were gradually, and by all accounts, painfully, pried away from the tangled strands.

This scene unfolded as the man flagged down his airborne squadron. Many pointed gestures were exchanged among the teams' objections before they dispersed towards Garreth's house—except for one dark-haired girl, who stood on the brink of delivering the man's second solid punch of the day for reasons unknown.

Her shrill cries of "You can't cancel our Quidditch practice because of a baby; we're only three days away from a match!" did nothing to alleviate Garreth's confusion.

As they deliberated, he was placed onto the ground, where a grassy banquet awaited him. A fitting compensation for his ordeal in the hair.

In a fit of anger, the girl hurled her broom to the floor, which was promptly confiscated from Garreth’s reach. In the interim, he had chewed a dandelion into a pulp and was now squeezing it until the juices mushed out from his tightened fist. With pride, he handed it to the man for inspection.

Rudely, his attention was elsewhere.

"Up," Garreth called, his stout arms extended as he slapped his soggy green fingers against his palms.

He wasn't spared a glance.

"Up!" he insisted, baffled when his efforts to raise himself three centimetres didn't result in being catapulted straight into awaiting arms. With a disappointed whine, he stretched his limbs higher.

"Quiet, Weasley."

Not one to shut up on command, Garreth rose to his unsteady feet and supported himself on the broom the man held loosely in his hand.

"UP," he commanded.

Up he went.

Draped over the broomstick like a towel hung out to dry, Garreth levitated until he reached a midpoint of the multicoloured spires surrounding the field. The broom purred between his fingers as he hooked an ankle over, the trembling coursing up his arms and animating his fleshy cheeks with a lively jiggle.

A sharp scream rang around the meadow from somewhere far below him.

Mama?

Garreth glanced down. It wasn’t mum—it was the man. His arms outstretched and calling his name. Alas, Garreth's interest in uppies had withered away, for an instinct was awakening. He was somehow aware that if he adjusted his posture...

His cheeks, bereft of their former jiggle, now thrashed against the back of his head as he shot off at breakneck speed.

With a twitch of his finger, he manoeuvred the broom to narrowly avoid smashing into a row of seats—it was a reflex, a memory ingrained deep in his muscles.

He streaked over the team in green, their yelling and leaps onto their brooms signalling their intent to challenge him in a race.

Oh, what delightful fun.

The wind carried away Garreth's gleeful shrieks as he weaved through a narrow waterway flanked by the castle walls. The roar of his peers from walkways spanning the passage propelled him onward. He was a creature of speed—a blur of motion—and, as always, thriving in the presence of an audience.

He ducked beneath a stone bridge and burst across open waters, escorted by a pair of majestic snowy owls gliding alongside him. The birds dropped to the surface of the lake, skimming their wings against the mirrored reflection of the sky before soaring up into the billowing clouds.

Oddly, their shadowy doppelgängers remained by Garreth’s side. His toes grazed the waves as he strained to catch a glimpse of his companions beneath the waterline when a sleek fin sliced through the water, while something breached entirely on the other side of him. Their playful dives splashed icy water across his face before they vanished into the depths. Garreth laughed as he extended his hand and squealed at them to come back.

Glancing up, he realised that his beckoning had summoned a building instead, and it was hurtling toward him at a frightfully rapid pace.

A fish erupted from the crest of a wave, snatching him off the broom seconds before it splintered into a million pieces against the bricks.

Garreth plunged into the water, ensnared in slippery arms.

The biting chill was only a passing thing as the fish breached the surface, clutching Garreth by a pudgy leg and hoisting him above the waterline. It rotated him this way and that, inspecting him with hungry eyes.

Garreth could relate; dandelions had been a sub-standard excuse for nourishment—he much preferred fish.

He grasped what he initially mistook for a writhing mass of serpents, only to discover it was sinewy strands of fish hair. Undiscouraged, he sank his tiny teeth into the gleaming scales. He was torn away, the fish's reprimand manifesting as a bone-shattering wail that shook Garreth to his tiny core.

Upset, tired, and starving, Garreth attempted to deliver a solid punch to the fish's face, but his new-fangled toddler exhaustion hindered his little fist, and he petted the slimy creature instead. On the verge of an imminent nap, Garreth curled into a ball and utilised ropey grey fish hair as a pillow.

He was vaguely aware of some heated commotion around him; at one point, a hungry fish snapped its teeth in his direction while another held him at arm's length. He dismissed this as irrelevant to his situation, providing the offending party with a slap before settling back into his nap with a grumble of irritation.

His consciousness ebbed and flowed with the undulation of the water. A serene fish guided him towards the building he had narrowly avoided colliding with. The lake rippled around them, while boats knocked against each other as they bobbed in the surf.

A delighted gasp stirred him as a figure waded up to her knees to reclaim him from the fish.

This new resting place was the essence of luxury—her familiar, soothing voice a balm to his weary senses. This divine ray of sunshine shrugged a blanket off her shoulders and wrapped Garreth in its warmth, granting him the comfort he needed to indulge in the finest siesta.

He awoke to the jarring sensation of a turbulent ride, his eyes rolling in their sockets as he wobbled around on a skeletal hip.

Merlin, Sharp's built like a sack of razor blades, Garreth grumbled inwardly.

Wait...

His body expanded moments after his mental faculties did.

The flickering flames beneath the cauldrons danced in and out of focus as his vision swayed. Finally it settled on the scene: his body sprawled across Sharp’s lap, both on the floor, scraps of a size 18-24 month Hogwarts uniform strewn across them like confetti.

"Hello, Professor.”

Sharp shoved him off and flung an abandoned cloak in his direction. "Put some clothes on, Weasley."

Garreth felt as though someone had scooped out his brain, used it in lieu of a bludger, and then poured the battered remnants back into his skull.

The soft twinkles of floating candles were like fireworks to his bloodshot eyes, magnifying the relentless throbbing behind them. Everywhere he looked, countless pairs of eyes stared back at him, accented by whispers interwoven with giggles.

An audience during dinner was an unnerving affair he wasn't accustomed to.

He turned a deaf ear to the hearsay that he'd smashed up Imelda's Nimbus. He had enough to bury deep down without living in perpetual fear of a hex taking him from behind. He employed his Gryffindor bravery to bolster his confidence and strode through the great hall his with chin up. If nothing else, it was a great story, albeit a slightly mortifying one.

He caught sight of Leander perched on a high horse. No doubt poised to unleash a storm of I told you so's and serves you right for the bald thing. Before Garreth could muster his wits and rustle up a selection of witty retorts, he was knocked sideways in a flying embrace.

"You're you again!"

He glanced down at the figure clinging to him and Merlin, the smile.

"I was always me, sunshine."

"I can't believe what you did. You brought mermaids into the boathouse, real ones!" Her tender hug was replaced by a firm grip on his tie and a pointed finger jabbing against his chest as she scolded him. "Don't you dare pull a stunt like that again. The whole school thought you'd drowned, but, gosh, it was incredible…"

Garreth's mind spun as her voice gained momentum with each euphoric word until everything froze, and she was touching his cheek—a fleeting, electrifying brush of her lips against his skin before they were torn apart by Poppy and her rapid gunfire of mermaid-themed questions.

His knees turned to mush under the weight of endorphins drowning his system. He slumped onto the bench opposite Leander, who had undergone a mood shift and now radiated a deliciously palpable rage.

Garreth smirked at him.

"Desired outcome achiev—"

"Shut the fuck up, Weasley."

#garreth weasley #weasley wednesday #garreth weasley fanfiction #garreth weasley fluff #garreth weasley x reader #garreth weasley fanart #garreth weasley x you #garreth weasley x mc #leander prewett #leander prewett fanart #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry #ominis gaunt #sebastian sallow #poppy sweeting #hogwarts oc #hogwarts houses #weasley

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cuffmeinblack · 8 months

Text

Dreamful Sleep

Garreth Weasley x f!reader

Tags: explicit | fluff | sex | friends to lovers

3.5k words

Summary: Garreth's habit of sleepwalking is driving his friends and roommates insane, until you start to find him in the midst of his dreaming.

A/n: Well, I do love a little fluff, some first-time smut, Garreth being Garreth. Nothing new or revolutionary here, just some good times with the most beautiful redheaded boy. I just love him.

ao3 link

Another night, another morning waking up surrounded by books, bottles and sweets strewn across the bed and the disgruntled mutterings of his roommates. Garreth never remembered his nighttime escapades, he was simply too deeply asleep to be aware of what he was doing. From his friends' recollections, it seemed as if he'd been trying to get out of the dormitory—his ultimate destination, he couldn't say, as he was usually swiftly bundled back into bed as soon as the commotion roused his slumbering roommates.

They'd threatened to tie him up if he didn't stop his mischief, but Garreth simply couldn't help it, nor offer an explanation. Weeks later, he'd woken in the common room to the sound of a shrill yelp, rattling his brain and piercing his ear drums; frankly, he was surprised the entire house wasn't woken. His blurry vision eventually focused on Nellie's horrified face, and the reason she'd let out such an ear piercing sound soon dawned on him. He told himself that it was time he started wearing more clothes to bed.

Whenever he dreamed, he rarely remembered the subject, though they often felt…familiar. Comforting, even. He had vague recollections of a friend and their piercing eyes and warm smile, though ultimately he’d never stayed asleep long enough for the stories to come to a conclusion. Part of him was curious, part terrified at what his unconscious body walking about the castle could accomplish.

“You know I’m going to start hexing you in the night,” Leander grumbled as he pulled his shirt on the wrong way round.

“I’m sorry, okay? I can’t help it,” Garreth apologised for what must have been the tenth time that week.

“Fine, what about Incarcerous?”

“I’m pretty sure that spell’s banned at Hogwarts,” Garreth grumbled.

Maybe being tied up wouldn’t be so bad, if it did come to that. It wasn’t worth thinking about for now—in fact, it wasn’t worth thinking about anything, given how tired he was. Leander seemed to be thinking the same as he dropped the nagging much quicker than usual, shuffling his clothes around the right way on his torso with an irritated frown.

You'd heard about Garreth's sleepwalking, and the endless recountings of Nellie's encounter that made you blush at the mere thought, but nothing had prepared you for coming face to face with him in the midst of his dreaming. The strangest sound lured you from your sleep; at first you thought it a remnant from your dream, until you heard it again.

Whoosh.

Thump.

Bundling yourself into your robe, you groped around the nightstand for your wand before heading out of the dormitory on softly padding feet. Silence engulfed you as you left your roommates' soft snores behind with the creak of a hinge and click of a latch. No more whooshing or thumping came from the room below. Still, it was worth investigating, and your first clue was the staircase which was no longer a staircase. Your heart pounded with shock as your foot connected with nothing underneath you, pulling yourself back at the last second with a wobble.

You'd almost fallen down the slippery slope in your haste, and the disappearance of the stairs could only mean one thing; a boy had tried climbing them to gain access to the girls' dormitories. Curious and slightly scandalised, you bunched up your nightdress and robe and sat on the landing, shuffling off to let gravity pull you down the slide. It took a lot of self restraint not to cheer as you whooshed down to the common room, landing on the carpeted floor with a thump, right next to Garreth.

Righting yourself, you opened your mouth to apologise for the near-collision but halted as you realised the redhead was fast asleep. Thank Merlin he was also wearing pyjamas this time; in fact, he looked perfectly cosy laying bundled on the floor in his baggy cotton ensemble, his eyelashes fluttering ever so slightly as his eyes darted beneath his lids. He was obviously dreaming again, the way his mouth moved almost imperceptibly and muscles twitched—whatever the narrative taking place, it had brought a smile to his face.

A minute or so must have passed since you were left crumpled on the floor next to Garreth, and all you'd achieved so far was to stare at his sleeping form. Brought out of your reverie by the scraping of stone as the staircase rebuilt itself, your skin flushed at the thought of having been so engrossed by your friend whilst he slept, though nobody conscious was around to witness it. You supposed you ought to wake him, as cruel as it seemed, so you reached out to place a hand on his arm, noticing how very warm he was.

Garreth shuffled slightly in his sleep, humming happily at the contact, and a heavy lurch of your stomach caught you off guard as you looked down at him. Regretfully, you squeezed his arm to rouse him, watching as he blinked rapidly to reveal dilated pupils, staring up at you with confusion etched on his freckled face.

"Hey, Gar," you said gently.

"Wha-...what am I doing here?" he mumbled.

He looked like a sleepy puppy as he propped himself up on his elbow, taking stock of his surroundings with bleary eyes and mussed hair. Even the little pout pulling at his lips was adorable. You put the thoughts down to your sleep deprivation and stood up, holding out a hand.

"You were sleepwalking again. Come on, let's get you back to bed."

"Mmmnh…I've never made it this far. How did you find me?" he asked, accepting your outstretched hand.

"I heard you. You erm…fell down the stairs."

"Well that explains a lot," he grumbled, rubbing a hand over his bum.

Never having witnessed him half-asleep before, his amateur dramatics were downright amusing. Endearing, even. You had the urge to ruffle his already displaced hair and shockingly, kiss his flushed cheeks. Instead, you gave him a pat on the back and guided him by the elbow towards the stairs to the boys' dormitories. Once he'd said his thanks and disappeared out of sight, you trudged back to your own bed and fell asleep to the idea of being enveloped by Garreth's warmth.

The constant sleepwalking has taken its toll on not only Garreth, but his roommates and even you. Seemingly attuned to his clumsy attempts at gaining access to where he shouldn't be, if he made it as far as the staircase you were inevitably the one who found him in the dead of night. Leander looked more drawn by the day, furious with his best friend's antics and threatening him with a draught of living death. He'd even gone to Nurse Blainey, who had ruled out dreamless sleep potions as a cure for the wandering; apparently all it would achieve would be to wipe his recollection of the dreams come morning, not stop the sleepwalking altogether.

After a busy day of back to back double lessons, you were already flagging only a few hours after dinner. Trying to concentrate on a book, your eyes slid in and out of focus, the words becoming a garbled mess the longer you tried. After the fifth attempt at reading the same sentence you gave up, discarding the book and allowing your neck to slacken, head lolling to the side. Just a few minutes to rest your eyes then you'd try again, you told yourself—it was just a little eye strain.

By the time you woke, the sky outside the windows was an inky black flecked with light from distant stars, the fire no longer roaring and leaving the room cold and empty. Apparently nobody had bothered to wake you, likely deciding you needed the rest, but someone had draped a robe over you at some point. There also appeared to be a heavy weight pressed on your thighs, and as you became more lucid, you noticed the silken texture between your fingers and a familiar scent from the robe laid against your chest.

Sitting up from your awkward sleeping position with a flex of your stiff neck, you peered down into your lap to see Garreth sleeping soundly with your hand tangled in his hair. A slight panic rattled your brain, the urge to whip your hand away losing to the much stronger desire to smooth the strands under your thumb. The dim light from the candles and celestial bodies danced across his face, illuminating his fiery mane as you stroked slowly, gently. You also noticed a tiny dribble of drool forming at his mouth, making you smirk before your thoughts were preoccupied by just how plump and inviting his lips looked.

You shuffled slightly, trying to get a little more comfortable, the movement dislodging the robe from your shoulder as the slightly burnt smell of cinders, cinnamon and butterbeer hit you. A smile tugged at your lips at the unmistakeable mixture you'd come to associate with friendship, comfort, joy and something else you hadn't quite figured out yet. With a furtive look around the room—though you knew you were alone except the sleeping beauty on your lap—you picked up a handful of the robe, bringing it to your nose and inhaling deeply. The smell of Garreth flooded your nostrils, eliciting all sorts of confusing feelings; some entirely innocent, some not.

You thought he must wake soon—surely he was due another sleepwalk. The clock on the wall ticked by, your own sleep now broken and filled with distracting thoughts of the boy laying beneath you. Midnight came and went; two o' clock, four o'clock, too, until dawn was upon you with the first birdsong and golden rays flooding the common room. You didn't have the heart to move him when he slept so soundly, sacrificing your own restfulness for his. Another hour passed by, by which point you'd picked up the book you'd discarded hours before, reading in the steadily intensifying light. Students would be waking soon, and whilst you knew your current predicament meant nothing, absolutely nothing, your classmates might use the scene as a source for gossip.

"Garreth," you whispered.

No response.

"Gar, wake up," you said, louder this time.

He groaned, eyebrows pinching into a frown before his eyes flew open wide to meet yours, like a deer caught in Lumos. Visibly flustered, he awkwardly cleared his throat and flashed you a wide smile from your lap, making no attempt to move. You wished he would—the vantage point couldn’t have made for a particularly flattering angle.

“Morning,” he croaked, wiping the sleep from his emerald eyes. “Did I get up in the night?”

“No, actually. You slept through, which is why I didn’t wake you,” you replied, yawning widely.

Garreth frowned, finally leaving his resting place on your thighs, now ever so slightly numb but nevertheless missing his presence.

“Huh. Maybe I was just trying to get to you all along," he said with a soft smile.

You laughed, presuming he'd been joking, but his eyes locked on yours with an intensity you'd never seen before.

"What, really?"

"I think my subconscious has been trying to tell me something," he nodded.

He said something along the lines of miss you, but the pounding of your heart dulled your hearing.

"Why…why would you miss me?"

"I said can I kiss you?" he chuckled.

Before you’d had time to process his question, your head had nodded of its own accord and Garreth’s lips had pressed against yours. You exchanged soft, exploratory kisses, though he already felt so familiar and utterly perfect. With a tilt of your head, he took the opportunity to slide his tongue inside your mouth, drawing a moan from you that he echoed. Every noise he made sent a throb of desire south, the tension you’d barely noticed between you now unravelling with a fervour that seemed impossible to stop.

He was pushing you back on the sofa before long, pressing his body between your legs with an unexpected confidence that had you reeling—clearly he knew what he wanted, and the way your body responded told him plainly that you wanted the same. You clasped his head in your hands and kissed him hard, desperately trying to convey your feelings wordlessly. This wasn’t a tentative fling you’d come to regret, this was years of close friendship and unresolved sexual tension pouring out.

Garreth growled as you kissed him, a low rumble from deep in his throat that pulled at something equally as animalistic in you. He rolled against you, the friction a welcome relief that you met with a shift of your hips. His already stiff cock found that sweet spot and had you sighing for more, both lost in the feverish grinding against one another’s clothed bodies. As good as it felt, this would never be enough—now you had a taste, you wanted all of him; every inch of his freckled body pressed against your skin until there was no space between you, not even a hair’s breadth.

"Gar…"

"Hm?" his muffled reply came as he buried his face against your neck.

"Fucking hell, take me upstairs."

The request came out as an order and without a second's hesitation, Garreth scrambled off of you, helping you to your feet far too fast. Your head swam as you followed him to his dormitory, praying that you wouldn't meet any early risers on the way. So far so good, you thought as you climbed the stairs, but your luck ran out as soon as Garreth pushed open the door. Leander. Still dressed in pyjamas and loosely clutching a wash bag, his attention turned to his roommate as soon as the hinges stopped creaking. An awkward silence followed when he spotted you; flushed, dishevelled and wearing yesterday's clothes.

Of all the reactions you'd anticipated in that short, agonising moment, Leander surprised you by having none of them. No gaping mouth, spluttering or endless questions—he merely looked between the two of you and nodded; in resignation or approval, it didn't particularly matter. You were sequestered away behind the curtains of Garreth's bed before Leander had reached the door, taking care to cast a silencing charm before Garreth's mouth claimed yours again, greedier than ever. The charm and privacy had thrown all inhibitions to the wayside as you both audibly, loudly, proclaimed your approval of each other.

Between searing kisses that had your insides squirming and heart fluttering, you both got to work mindlessly ridding the other of their clothes. A groan almost left your mouth as his shirt fell off his broad shoulders, your eyes flying open to drink in the sight of him—a sight you'd only dared ponder and dream of before now. He really did have freckles everywhere, and the overwhelming urge to kiss every one almost won your attention, until he peeled off your underwear. Breeches still on, he didn't let you rid him of the last scrap of clothing before his head had delved between your legs with shocking swiftness.

"Gar, what are you…?"

Your question was cut short by his rough manhandling of your legs, flinging them over his shoulders and gripping your thighs as his mouth found your aching heat. The wet warmth of his tongue was lost amongst your own heated arousal, but the pressure against your swollen clit sent your head spinning. You ought to have been embarrassed at how soaked you were already, but Garreth seemed to appreciate every last drop with loud groans as he lapped between your folds. The flick of the tip of his tongue against your nub sent shivers across your body to every extremity, or perhaps it had been the way he stared at you whilst he did so. Those piercing green eyes under hooded lids were the most addictive sight—you couldn't look away from him, seemingly drunk with pleasure from your juices.

He had no right being so talented with his tongue, whether from experience or outright enthusiasm—either way, your orgasm built steadily under his caress. A string of endless praise and expletives left your mouth, spurring him on to flick and twirl his tongue faster, his salacious moans growing louder still, until finally reaching a crescendo with your climax. What might have been the most mind-altering release you'd ever experienced ripped through your body, leaving your limbs shuddering and ears ringing.

"Garreth, that was…amazing…"

His blurry figure appeared above you, and you noticed your eyes were pricked with tears. It was like looking up at him from the bottom of a lake, his copper locks swimming into your vision with the sound of fabric rustling.

"I want you…all of you," his gravelly voice said, dripping with lust.

His hands gripped your thighs as you wiped away the tears, peering down to see him knelt between your legs, completely naked. Great Merlin, he'd been hiding that beneath his tattered robes all this time? The times you'd gripped his arm to walk with him or slapped his back jovially came to mind; you knew he was broad, muscular, but he was truly delicious. Especially those thick thighs that braced against your own as he gently stroked his impressive length. You couldn't suppress a gulp as you took the sight of that in; uncut, pink and throbbing with desire, you could have happily watched him play with himself and welcomed his release with an open mouth.

But he had other plans for you. His fingers gripped your chin, tilting your face towards him as your eyes dragged lazily away from his cock.

"Eyes up here, darling."

Good grief, Garreth Weasley would be the end of you. You offered a silent prayer as he towered over you, guiding the tip of his cock towards your entrance. You laced your fingers through his hair, looking into his eyes as he pushed himself inside you slowly, carefully, allowing you time to adjust to his size. A deep inhale and exhale and your body relaxed around him, leaving you with a satisfying sensation of fullness.

"Gods, you feel good," you whispered.

"Yeah?" he asked, pushing himself deeper than you thought possible whilst drawing your legs up closer to your chest. "How about that?"

"Fuck, yes!"

The first thrust had you moaning, the second had you begging for more as you tugged on his hair, now thoroughly dishevelled with strands plastered to his glistening forehead. His musky scent was intoxicating, mixed with his usual Garreth smell and the heady mixture of arousal made something you’d remember and crave again and again. Pulling him down on top of you, your eye contact finally broke as your lips crashed together in a kiss that meant much more than you would care to admit.

His pace was slow and steady but every roll of his hips hit you deep, precise, hard. He was holding back, prolonging the pleasure as long as possible. You had the sneaking suspicion that Garreth could easily pick you up and fuck you senseless in any position he wanted, the way his biceps flexed and rippled underneath him. With his weight borne on one arm, his other was free to roam your body, large hands gripping your flesh greedily in time to his powerful thrusts.

He skimmed your breast, a thumb and forefinger pinching the peak, drawing a surprised yelp that muffled against his smirking lips. Well, if that’s how he wanted to play. Abandoning his hair, your fingers flexed as they drew down his back, nails dragging across the skin in a way you were sure would leave welts and a little blood to remember you by. Garreth groaned, his hips twitching in response and plunging harder back into you.

“Oh shit…,” you gasped.

“Do it again.”

You complied, a little harder this time, and Garreth quickened his pace with gasping moans by your ear that sent shivers across your entire body. Again and again he pounded into you as you marked up his back and grabbed handfuls of him anywhere you could. A sharp smack on his arse sent him over the edge, and he bit down hard on your neck as he came. He gave no warning, his release spilling inside you in shuddering pulses as he clung to you tightly, muttering your name between kisses to your sore skin.

“Gar…,” you sighed, nuzzling his cheek as his rhythm slowed, his orgasm ebbing away.

Laying underneath his warmth, arms and legs wrapping his body was a comfort you’d never experienced, and you stroked his hair and kissed every freckle you could reach on his face. Garreth grinned, his eyes now hazy, almost drunk, as if he could happily go back to sleep wrapped in your embrace.

“Good morning,” he said, kissing the tip of your nose.

“Good morning,” you chuckled back.

Garreth nuzzled his face back against your neck, kissing his claim on you with gentleness.

“You know…if you want our friends to keep their sanity, I think you’ll have to sleep with me from now on,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Is that so? I’m not sure that’s a proper thing for friends to do.”

“I thought it was obvious—this was me asking you out!”

“Ah, well then, this is me accepting,” you replied, pulling him into a deep kiss that made you very late for breakfast.

#weasley wednesday #garreth weasley #garreth weasley x reader #garreth weasley x you #garreth weasley smut

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